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CONTAINING 




SKETCHES OF LIFE, 



COMPOSITIONS, ESSAYS, 



DISPUTATIONS, POEMS, ETC. 



• • • 



BY SEABRED DODGE PRATT, ESQ. 






AUBURN : 

HENRY OLIPHANT, PRINTER, 

1852, 



-G>C, 



CX n (,51 



^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by 

S. D. PRATT, 
In the Clerk's Office of the Northern District of New York. 



DEDICATION, 



TO THE REY. A. C. LATHROP. 



There is a story, which you may have seen, 
About a duck which was a little green. 
That floated on a pond one pleasant night, 
Saw there a star upon the water bright, 
Plunged deeply for it through the liquid flood, 
And run its head some inches in the mud. 
The moral of this tale you well may ken, 
Its application both to books and men ; 
The question now before you, seems to be, 
Will this apply to Inklings and to me ? 
The book was written, little at a time, 
Some parts of it in boyhood's sunny clime, 
Before I well had learned to scan a rhyme ; 
The yerse was chiefly written since the chime 
Of English bards fell sweetly on the ear, 
And sense and sound combined the heart to cheer. 



IV DEDICATION. 

To please, instruct, has been the only aim 
Which honest efforts for the work may claim — 
To throw a moral sunshine round the hearth, 
The dear-loved place where virtues have their birth. 

You, who have been a friendless orphan boy — 

You, who have wept upon an orphan's grave, 
And learned the fleeting moments to employ 

In teaching men their moral worth to save — 
Whose heart, once touched with the Promethean fire 

Sent from above to light the dark within, 
Now scathed, not blighted, soars aloft still higher, 

As burn the ligaments of earthly sin — 
You, who so well and truly learn to blend 

Two things so rarely to be found in man, 
The unbribed critic with the. sincere friend — 

You, who would teach the moral worth to scan, 
Shall be my patron friend. The star of hope 

Still cheer you onward to that better land, 
Where you with adverse winds no more may cope, 

Where all is sinless, beautiful and grand ! 

THE AUTHOR. 
Pompey, N. Y., September, 1852. 



TO THE READER. 



Friends, Patrons, all ! I make my bow in rhyme. 

And ask a leisure moment of your time. 

From care and labor, which all may attend, 

To listen to me only as a friend. 

And if, one aching heart, these lines could soothe, 

Life's rugged pathway for a day could smooth, 

How sweet the task, to cheer a lonely one, 

Who walks in shadows 'neath a shining sun ! 

No metaphysics, to perplex the mind, 

And leave man groping for truth left behind, 

May here be found ; so gently onward pass, 

And learn of nature from the mingling mass. 

Truth may be in a well, but seems to me, 

In field and meadow it may likewise be ; 

In singing bird, in rivulet, and man, 

Where spicy breezes fevered brows may fan, 

Where tempest howls around the lonely form 

Which seeks for shelter from the pelting storm, 

And where the petals of the spring unfold, 

Mix with the air their fragrant wealth untold. 



CONTENTS, 



PAGE. 

Introduction, --------13 

CHAPTER I. 

Brother Jonathan, and his early history, 20 

Landing of the Pilgrims, ------ 21 

Political Doctors, - - - - - - - - - 23 

CHAPTER II. 

Bondage, - - - - - - . - - - 26 

Feeling and Fancy, ------- 27 

Anecdote, ---------28 

The Past and Future linked with the Present, - 29 

Strife, illustrated with a story, - - - - - 31 

CHAPTER III. 

Spring, --33 

The Season of Youth, 33 

Egypt, 36 

Young America, ------- 38 

CHAPTER IY. 

Introduction, ------- -40 

Rhyming Epistle, ------- 41 

Progressive Spirit of the Age, - - - - - 43 

Hope, - - - - 44 

Nature's Laws, ----*-«- 46' 



Vlll CONTENTS' 



CHAPTEK V. 

PAGE. 

Romance, - - - - - - - --48 

Story commenced, - . - - - _ .. --»■.-- 49 

The School-master, the School-room, and the Little Fish- 
ermen, are in this chapter. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A Spring Morning, - - - - „ - 58 

The School-room again, - - . ' - - - - - 59 

Greenville, and its Inhabitants, ----- 61 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Last Day of School, 67 

A Composition, - - - - - 69 

Niagara Falls, --------70 

Right of Petition, ------- 73 

Matrimony, - - 75 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Memento, ---------79 

Vacation, William and Grace, ----- 80 

Master Birch, --- 84 

Master White, - 87 

CHAPTER IX. 

Memento, ---------91 

Grace, --------- 92 

Letter from William, and its effects at Greenville, 94 

CHAPTER X. 

Memento, --------- 102 

City Life, 103 

The Changes at Greenville, - - - - - - 105 

The Finale, - - - - - - - - - - 107 



CONTENTS. ix 



CHAPTER XT. 



PAGE. 

The Skeptic, -. 115 

The Cause, 120 

California, - -- - - - - - - 121 

Time, - 123 

For a Frieud. -------- 125 

To a Bird in Spring, 126 

For a Lady's Album, - - - - - - - 127 



CHAPTER XII. 

Is the Reading of Works of Fiction Beneficial ? - - 128 

The Bar vs. the Pulpit, as a Field for Eloquence, - 132 

Do the Sisms of the Times threaten the Permanency of 

of our Free Institutions ? - - - - - - 135 

"Were the Allied Powers of Europe justifiable in banish- 
ing Napoleon ?--- - --- 140 

On the Choice of a profession, ----- 144 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Oraticn, - - ~ — 149 

Temperance, -------- 157 

Envy, - - - 160 

Come to my bower ! ------ 104 



CHAPTER XIY. 

Obligations of American Youth, - - - - - 166 

Economy, -------- 171 

Modern Improvements, ------ 173 

Contentment, -------- 175 

Dependence, -------- 176 

The Classics, 178 

A Dream, - - 181 



CONTENTS, 



CHAPTER XV. 



A Rainy day, 184 

Habits, 190 

The Sphere of Talent, - - - - - - 193 

CHAPTER XVI. 

To the Publisher of the Union Magazine, - - - 198 

The Sigh, 199 

Hope, - - 200 

Remarks on Criticism, - - - - - - 201 

CHAPTER XVH. 

Winter, 216 

Spring, 217 

Sons: of the Milk-Maid, 220 

To the Polar Star, 221 

A Reply, 223 

Epistolary Extract, ------ 22G 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

An Evening Meditation, ------ 232 

I knew her by her Gentle Air, - - 233 

To a Young Lady at School, 235 

Valentine, -------- 237 

Lines written after reading Campbell's Pleasures of 

Hope, and other Poems, ------ 238 

We are Peepers All ! 239 

Letter to Uncle Sam, ------- 242 

CHAPTER XIX. 

To a Desponding Friend, ------ 250 

Song, 252 

The American Flag, - - - - - - - 253 

The Thirty-First Congress, ----- 255 

Song, - — . - 260 

The Sea, --------- 261 

To a Lady who Advertised for a Husband, - - - 264 



CONTENTS. XI 

The Church- Yard, 266 

Epitaph, 269 

A Grace. - 269 

Childhood, 270 



CHAPTER XX. 

The Pen, 276 

Free Schools, 280 

The Sabbath. 281 

Summer. ' 283 

Lament for Ireland, ------- 285 

Epitaph for a Revolutionary Patriot, - 286 

Hungary — A Dirge, ------- 286 

Autumn, -------- 287 

The Farmer - 289 

The lady who Sang for me, - - - - - 292 



CHAPTER XXL 

Life and the Seasons, ------- 294 

Parting Song, ------- 301 

Song, 302 

Song! - 303 

To a Young Lady who Requested me to Write " Some 

Verses/' - 305 

A Maiden Epistle, - 306 

Sonnets— Solitude, - - 309 

Light, - 309 

Friendship, --._- = 310 

To a Friend on Departing for California, 311 

To Mary, 311 

The Future, an Ode, - 312 

Lines "Written on Visiting Niagara Falls, - - - 317 
Lines Written on Visiting the Battle Ground, near Still- 
water, on the Hudson River, . . - 319 



CHAPTER XXIL 
Clarence, a Tale of New- York, - - r - - 323 



XU CONTEXTS. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

"Oh! take the Harp!" - 346 

To Helen, - 348 

To Emeline, -------- 349 

The Anemone, ------- 350 

To xMary, - 351 

The Lady and Bouquet, ----- 353 

For a Friend in Sickness, ------ 354 

Pratt's Falls, 356 

For a Friend, after a Long Absence, - - - - 359 

The Union, -------- 361 

Acrostical Sonnet, - - - - - - - 364 

The Present, -------- 365 

A Doggerel, -------- 367 

The Maiden's Prayer, - - - - - - .371 

For a Lady's Album, ------- 372 

Valentine. -------- 373 

Song of the Rill, 374 

Motto for a Literary Paper, ----- 375 

On the Death of a Cricket, ------ 376 

Switzerland, -------- 378 

Alas, my Brother !------- 379 

To Homer, the Poet, - - - - - 381 

The Doctor's first Patient, and the Ghost, - 385 

Random Thoughts. 392 

The Orphan's Soliloquy, ------ 397 

Lines Written at the Grave of my Sister, - - - 401 



INTRODUCTION. 



How much depends upon an introduction ! The 
time, place, and circumstances of the parties, the ap- 
pearance, the feelings and thoughts, all enter into the 
affair, and often give it an impress which time can 
never efface. A single glance of the eye, or a tone 
of voice, may be remembered for years. 

But in an introduction like the present, when one 
steps forth to introduce himself to the world of read- 
ers, if embarrassed in making his presentation, it is 
not seen ; if too much has been said here, and too 
little there, he can not excuse or explain. He can 
only hope that fortune may favor his attempt to please 
or instruct, and the dear readers, his patrons, will, out 
of their abundant goodness, write at the bottom of 
each page, a full explanation of everything obscure, 
for the good of the rising generation ! Some, who 
have toiled, and thought, and vexed the troubled 
2 



XIV INTRODUCTION. 

brain for thought wherewith to write their names in 
a large building, on a high hill, generally known as 
the Temple of Fame, have been doomed to see their 
offspring, after a short and sickly existence, walking 
the streets like common servants, with as much tea 
and sugar as they could hold. Alas, for the ingrat- 
itude of mankind ! But then there are others, who 
begin so kindly and affectionately, that at the end of 
the first chapter, we are on the best of terms, and 
seem to pass through the whole work with the au- 
thor's arm around our neck, while he whispers in our 
ear words as refreshing as the evening zephyr of a 
sultry day. The world to them is bright and smi- 
ling, and they can discourse right eloquently of oux 
glorious country, free institutions, and enlightened, 
happy people. 

In this age of books, it must be confessed, there is 
nothing more needed by an author, than what is call- 
ed tact ; for there is no subject which has not pro- 
duced its books, and no two men can be expected to 
write much upon the same subject, without having 
many ideas the same ; for even in controversy, there 
must be a common ground, over which they may 
discharge an artillery of words, otherwise, they can 
not approach sufficiently near for a contest. Another 



INTRODUCTION. XV 

idea of importance to authors, is to keep their produc- 
tions out of yellow covers ; for some have such an 
incurable prejudice against them, (the covers,) that 
they would probably consider the Bible of doubtful 
authority, were it placed within such a covering. 

Dear reader, as long introductions are sometimes 
considered odious, you may, perhaps, by this time, 
be waiting for some • confidential communication of 
the plan and object of this work. In this particular, 
you may be disappointed, for it will only be limited 
now, by a diameter of about eight thousand miles, 
and a circumference of twenty-five thousand. In 
fact, it may go beyond these bounds, to the pale- 
orbed queen of night, whose borrowed light is so 
often invoked in the deep stillness of nature's repose ; 
and those subduing, melting, little twinklers, who 
seem to open their eyelids just far enough to take a 
peep into the dark. It will be read by many, as it 
will be written, (supposing it to be published and 
popular,) a few pages at a time, the thoughts and 
feelings varying with the times and circumstances. 
By the way, as the earth appears several times lar- 
ger to human bipeds, than the moon does to us, it 
must furnish a large field for speculation to its phi- 
losophers and poets. I wonder if they do not some- 



XVI INTRODUCTION. 

times invoke us, poor, miserable mortals, to lend a 
listening ear to tales of ruined hopes, broken for- 
tunes, and man's inhumanity to man ! If they do, 
some one should inform them, it is positively of no 
use ; for we have so many things of that kind, at 
home, we can not possibly assist them. 

And now we will make a short excursion on the 
subject of reading, and close this first interview. In 
the midst of this nineteenth century, an. age of in- 
ventions and discoveries, and emphatically an age 
of books, in which all views are promulgated on all 
subjects, the universal reader may perhaps be consid- 
ered safe.. He can compare conflicting opinions, 
weigh well the arguments in favor of, and against eve- 
ry theory ; and his conclusions, based upon delibera- 
tions, with such assistance, will not be easily moved. 
Some books are worth reading, for the style alone, — 
there is such a nice selection of words to convey 
precisely the idea ; they are so free from vulgarisms 
and coarse allusions, that we may uncheck fancy, 
after reading them, without the least danger of com- 
ing in contact with any thing contaminating or im- 
proper. And argumentative works do not contain all 
the reasoning in the world, for a conclusion from a 
supposed case may be as correct as frojn a real one, 



INTRODUCTION. XVI 1 

provided the supposed case be a supposable one. 
Romance may instruct, while it amuses ; and who 
would not wish, sometimes, to be placed in the cen- 
ter of a hundred acres of roses, or to luxuriate in the 
glowing fancy of poetry and song ? 

Teachers should be the best advisers of school 
books ; religious teachers, of religious books ; law- 
yers, of law ; medical men, of medical works ; and 
they can assign their reasons for particular preferen- 
ces ; but when they step from their particular depart- 
ment to condemn a work, we should do well to ask 
them for a reason ; and if they have never read it, 
and know nothing of it, as a general rule, their opin- 
ion is not worth the time of telling it ; and why 
should we deprive ourselves of the advantages which 
may be derived from perusing a new work, through 
the prejudice or bigotry of a professional adviser? 
The same work may suggest different ideas to dif- 
ferent individuals, and a thing merely hinted by the 
author, might start a train of ideas in the mind of 
some reader, which would be the foundation for a 
whole volume. A work, written in a slovenly style, 
and without regard to taste in its arrangement, may 
be of service by testing our critical powers in making 
alterations for its improvement. His intellect must 



XV111 INTRODUCTION. 

be either obtuse or precocious, who can read any 
work without deriving some advantage from it. So 
much has been said and written upon reading, that, 
with this little tete-a-tete upon the subject, we will 
separate for a short time, and then renew our ram- 
bles, wherever time, circumstances and inclination 
may direct. 



INKLINGS. 



CHAPTER 1. 



"Who has not seen the shadows of summer clouds 
pursue each other down the hill, and over the fields, 
and disappear forever : or bubbles rise in quick suc- 
cession to the surface of a fountain, and dance a mo- 
ment on its tiny waves ? These are emblems of life, 
and the mutability of human affairs ; but we are so 
often reminded of them, that like courteous visitors, 
we will enjoy, as well as we can, our host's hospital- 
ity, without annoying by perpetually telling him that 
we can stay but a few minutes. Joy and sorrow, 
hope and fear, are large items in the sum total of hu- 
man existence : and as we may be compared to mir- 
rors, which reflect not only the faces, but the feelings 
of others, how important that those mirrors be clean 
and true, that they may reflect no distorted images ! 



20 INKLINGS. 

But enough of this. And now, before making any- 
lengthy excursion, it may be well to survey our po- 
sition, and take a birds-eye view of things around us. 

A man going out into the road and looking around, 
said he was about in the center of the world ; and 
when we speak of our free institutions in comparison 
with the monarchies of the old world, we indulge in 
the same feelings, and often as little disguise them. 
That we are highly favored in political freedom, there 
can, perhaps, be no doubt ; but fate may cut the web 
that fancy weaves of the future with such glowing 
colors. Brother Jonathan is a pet. He has been told 
so often that he is a smart boy and a genius, there 
is danger of his being ruined by the flattery. When 
he begins to cry for the sugar plums in his neighbor's 
shop windows, and throw stones at them if they re- 
fuse to shell out, there is some danger of his becoming 
a little headstrong ; and being a large, strong lad, 
should he manifest a willful disposition, it would be 
a difficult task to restrain him. 

But old mother England whips her children and 
sends them away from home, very small, and then 
gives them an occasional cuff, after they leave her, to 
remind them of parental authority ; and these early 
flagellations may do them good, when they raise the 
rod to strike. 

Well, really, this is a great country, and contains 
within itself, all the elements of greatness, in extent 
of territory, in variety of climate and productions, 
and in the proverbial enterprise of its inhabitants. 



INKLINGS. 21 



Two hundred years have rolled away since it was 
almost one unbroken wilderness ; and if we transport 
ourselves to the period of its first settlement, and 
view, in imagination, the magic changes, there is, 
perhaps, no subject to an American, more absorbing 
in interest, or sublime in contemplation. 



LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS. 



Cold autumn winds had swept the leaves 

On* from the forest trees, 
And winter's signal note was heard 

In every passing breeze, 
When from the May-Flower landed, 

That little hero band ; 
Then meekly bowed and thanked their God, 

Upon the cold, wet sand. 

The dangers of an unknown sea, 

By them were safely passed ; 
On Plymouth Rock they could not say. 

Those perils were the last ; 
"While round them in the forest prowled, 

The savage beasts of prey, 
And Nature's rude, unlettered sons, 

As wild and fierce as they. 
2* 



22 IxVKLINGS. 

Behind, they left their native skies, 

And ivy-trellised walls ; 
Deep murmuring brooks, and verdant lawns. 

And gushing water-falls ; 
Where the heart still loves to linger, — 

While round in sad array, 
Come doleful thoughts beyond the main, 

Of loved ones far away. 

And here, thine altar, Liberty, 

Amid afflictions reared, 
And sanctified by holy vows 

Made to the God they feared ; 
Long may its incense grateful rise, 

To Him who rules the skies, — 
The Father of the Puritans, — 

The Holy, Good and Wise ! 

Possunt quia posse videntur, — they can, because 
they think they can, — seems to have been the con- 
trolling maxim of these early pioneers, — a firm reli- 
ance upon their own capabilities, with corresponding 
exertions. A world of books has been written upon 
the subject of our early history, commemorating not 
only Plymouth and Jamestown, but all of the first 
settlements. In fact, there is not a county or town 
in the Union, without its history and legends, writ- 
ten or unwritten. From romance we get some very 
good pictures of those early times ; and authentic his- 



INKLINGS. 23 

tory informs us of characters, whose virtues should 
be transmitted as a legacy to posterity. Every week 
some paper contains an account of an individual or 
place, the name of which has been familiar to us 
since the lisping days of childhood ; and yet we read 
it with a pleasure ever new, those accounts of Indian 
massacres and brutal murders, always excepted, for 
me. Some interlopers who came over to the colonies 
may have given the natives just cause for resenting 
their conduct, but the untutored savage has notions 
of things differing from enlightened ideas. 

Perhaps you ask by this time, if that position has 
been surveyed. You must remember, that to know 
where we are. we must know where we are not. 

The farmer, when he removes to a new place, in- 
quires his distance from tide-water, rail-road or canal, 
market, village, post-office, etc., and then he knows 
where he is. The present condition of things in Eu- 
rope may affect this country : and nations are com- 
posed of individuals. Sometimes causes which ap- 
pear to be of little consequence, produce most aston- 
ishing results ; and when the arrow has left the bow 
of the archer, he can not turn its course. So many 
Bunkerhiil speeches have been made on education, 
freedom, patriotism, et id genus omne, that Demos- 
thenes and Cicero would have been delighted in hear- 
ing some of them, especially the latter, in listening 
to those classical allusions to the Caesars. Cataline's 
conspiracy sinks into insignificance, when compared 
with the results which sometimes depend upon the 



24 INKLINGS. 

election of a supervisor. This must always be the 
case, where all are sovereigns^without crowns; the 
successful aspirant will wear his blushing honors — 
proscribe proscription, and in his turn, be proscribed ; 
the mass of the people, little interested, unless some 
Vandal undertake to peck a corner-stone out of the 
temple of Liberty, or their individual interests be di- 
rectly touched. Political doctors have used their phi- 
losophic eye-water, for the purpose of improving the 
vision of their patients on the eve of an important 
election, until many have lost all confidence in their 
prescriptions. Could we look into the future and see 
the consequences of an action, it would sometimes 
make us more careful. The past can be our only 
guide, and if we stick stakes into the future to range 
with the past, some wind may blow a tree across our 
way. 

And now, dear reader, a few thoughts on the sub- 
ject of forming opinions, shall close this interview. 
You may not be told to form no belief upon a subject 
of which you are entirely ignorant, for that would 
be, as the lawyers say, prima facie evidence to stul- 
tify yourself. But against the prejudices of early ed- 
ucation and habits of thought, it may be well for us 
all to guard. All our ideas of the world are associa- 
ted with what we do, see and hear. All our opin- 
ions and thoughts are most intimately blended with 
our own occupations. Nothing can be further from 
ihe right, than always to judge others by ourselves. 
There may have been peculiar circumstances, un- 



INKLINGS. 25 

seen by us, or peculiar impressions to us unknown, 
which may make an action, apparently wrong, 
harmless to the perpetrator ; and therefore should 
we ever cultivate that charity which forgives, as it 
hopes to be forgiven. And now till we meet again, 
— au revoir. 



CHAPTER II. 



He who has lost the glorious boon of freedom and 
performs his servile tasks in obedience to the com- 
mands of a master, is not the only one who is in bon- 
dage, or has claims upon human sympathy. He may 
have lost his birth-right through no fault of his own, 
and a kind master may relieve him from many anxi- 
eties which destroy the enjoyment of his free neigh- 
bor. His food and clothing may be more than suffi- 
cient for his necessities, medical skill may relieve his 
pains, and provision may be made for his support 
after age and labor have exhausted his physical ener- 
gies. He may not know he is a slave, in that sense 
in which an enlightened freeman would know it, 
were he placed in bondage. The line which bounds 
his vision, may be to him the world's extreme ; with 
none to please but a kind master, and no wants to 
satisfy but those in common with the brute creation, 
he may be happy, as far as he is capable of enjoy- 
ment. He who can not govern his appetites, must be 
governed by them, and passions unrestrained are re- 



INKLINGS. 27 

lentless masters. The ignorant man is in danger of 
violating nature's laws and paying the fearful penal- 
ty, in whatever he performs. But for the present, 
adieu to this subject, which might lead to a long di- 
gression. 

Who has not sometimes seen clouds obscure the 
sky of his prospects, or been disgusted with the real 
or supposed vanity, fickleness or treachery of those 
around him ? Then, with a few chosen friends, he 
would gladly embark for some lovely green isle of 
the ocean, where storms never come, where perpetual 
sunshine gladdens the heart, while he listens to the 
soft music of birds mingled with the ceaseless chorus 
of the gentle waves that break upon his island home, 
and where in green bowers by sparkling fountains, 
breathing an air fragrant with a thousand odors, he 
can pluck the spontaneous productions which nature 
profusely lavishes in his way, and enjoy without mo- 
lestation the society of those he loves. But he must 
endure the storms, submit to annoyances and griev- 
ances, despise fancied inflictions, and bear patiently 
the real ones. He who can not do this, is no philos- 
opher. The path of life now conducts us through 
fertile vales and flowery meads, then, over sterile 
mountains where nothing grows except thorns and 
brambles, and he is the greatest hero, who can tread 
its winding, varying course, with the greatest equa- 
nimity. All objects appear green to him who wears 
green glasses ; and equally true is it, that feeling and 
fancy give their coloring to everything around us. 



28 INKLINGS. 



But action and re-action are equal. Who has not 
felt the truth of this, when clouds and storms oppress 
the feelings, and the drooping spirits drop from 
thought to thought like the drizzling sky ; and when 
the vast expanse of ocean with its pealing anthem, a 
mountain towering to the sky, or the thundering cat- 
aract has awakened sublime sensations ? All must 
feel the power of these external causes, these appeals 
to man's better, nobler nature. While standing upon 
the banks of the Niagara and viewing that stupen- 
dous cataract, the feeling of the sublime is almost 
oppressive. 

Here Nature speaks, and in a voice whose tones 
Must thrill the nerves. 

And here permit me to relate a personal anecdote. 
In one of the Western States, in a small village, there 
is a tavern inviting with its substantial comforts the 
weary traveler to repose. Calling there soon after a 
visit to the Falls, and being invited to the Register, I 
walked up to the desk, wrote my name, and seeing a 
large, blank place for remarks, made a memorandum 
of the cataract in a dozen lines of verse. A few 
hours after this, turning to the Register for the new 
names, I was very much surprised to see the words 
prodigious, sublime, awful, written against my mem- 
orandum with a row of exclamation points as long as 
my finger. Whether written as a joke, or compli- 
ment, this deponent saith not, but he verily believes, 
it has been the foundation for many a speech of West- 



INKLINGS. 29 

ern eloquence, without being thoroughly committed 
to memory. It is a consoling reflection to the lover 
of nature, that those who are so degraded they can 
not enjoy sublime scenery, deserve pity rather than 
contempt ; and under no circumstances, would T rec- 
ommend any one to bait a hook with dry jokes to 
catch flattery from a loafer ; even success must be 
ruin to self-respect. 

So many subjects present themselves for the con- 
templation of the general reader, that in his moments 
of relaxation from the business or duties of life, he 
may, without entering into any long, metaphysical 
disquisitions, or scientific researches, find sufficient to 
relieve a dull monotony ; mental food, which, while 
it refreshes and invigorates, prepares the mind to 
enter with alacrity into all the business concerns of 
life, We do not live in the present alone, the past 
and future are curiously interwoven with it ; hope 
and memory unite the two extremes, and blend them 
in harmony with the present. The one, recalls the 
incidents in the history of life, from the more impor- 
tant events which seem to have a controlling influence 
over our destiny, to the minute particulars of child- 
hood, when the world was one great novel, exciting 
in every feature to the juvenile mind, which seemed 
organized expressly for its contemplation and enjoy- 
ment ; the other, with the golden tissue which fancy 
weaves from the present and the past, throws her 
bright mantle over the future, which, if it conceal the 
gathering storm, may make the present moment 



30 INKLINGS. 

happy. If we take an occasional fancy flight, there 
is no danger that the stern realities of life will not 
bring us back again to earth ; and who would not 
like to speculate where the principal yields such usu- 
rious interest? There maybe a few instances in 
which life is passed in dreams and reveries, and there- 
by much usefulness is destroyed; but far greater 
damage is done by not giving healthful play to the 
feelings and fancy. 

A clear sky and pleasant dreams to all the world ! 
It will be more pleasant to live where contentment 
and happiness abound, and we may perhaps inhale 
from the balmy air around us, those odors from para- 
dise, which we certainly could not from an atmos- 
phere of malignant passions. But, if the world reject 
our proffered sympathy, return civility and kind so- 
licitude with rudeness, ridicule and insult, we will 
turn from it without reproach, thankful that no vile 
weeds grow around the fountain of our happiness, to 
imbitter and poison the delicious draught. Think 
not a passive, base submission is here advised to 
whatever course may be pursued. We should know 
our rights, and knowing, dare protect them. It is as 
much man's duty to protect his inherent, inalienable 
rights, as it is to relieve the distress of his brother man. 
Why not ? Has he no duties to perform for himself, 
no moral obligation to account for those gifts intrust- 
ed to his care, and his alone ? They may not be 
trampled in the dust with impunity. Man's crimson 
cheek will tell the tale of his violated rights, if he 



INKLINGS. 31 

needs the power or moral courage to assert and pro- 
tect them. But frequently strife and contention origi- 
nate from fancy inflictions, or from trifles beneath the 
notice of the man of liberal and comprehensive views. 
Against these annoyances to which all may be sub- 
jected, it may be well to guard. A little story, with 
its own impressive moral, may illustrate my views 
on this point. On a summer evening, two men were 
reclining upon the grass, and reposing from the day's 
labor. Time passed pleasantly in conversing upon 
the various things around, when one of them looking 
up, remarked; "I wish I had as much land as the 
sky would cover ;" to which the other replied ; "and 
I wish I had as many cattle as there are stars in the 
sky." ''And what would you do with your cattle ? " 
"I would place them on your land." Then there 
was a dispute about the cattle and land, and then a 
contention, and finally a fight, and they maybe fight- 
ing now ; nothing known to the contrary by my in- 
formant. This may be an example for a thousand 
misunderstandings in the world. We should never 
forget general truths and first principles ; the great 
index which points the best way for all men ; and we 
should apply those principles, if we can, with a full 
knowledge of ourselves. Do you ask how this is to 
be done ? Study human nature ; view it as it devel- 
ops itself under ten thousand different circumstances. 
It is true we do not all do precisely the same things 
in similar situations ; yet we have many things 
in common ; invigorated by the same air, nourished 



32 INKLINGS. 

by the same food, inflicted with the same pains, with 
common appetites and passions, with common senti- 
ments and feelings on many subjects, with heaven's 
free sky above, and nature's scenery around, free for 
all to contemplate and enjoy,— who can say, that 
with the education and examples of others, he might 
not have done the same things which now cause him 
to despise, rather than pity his offending brother man? 



CHAPTER III. 



Spring is the most delightful season of the year. 
The temperature is the most favorable for health, 
which prepares man the better to enjoy its exquisite 
loveliness. The odor of flowers and shrubbery is 
borne upon the gentle breeze, and then the music of 
the feathered songsters which greets the ear. is of the 
most delightful kind. But spring may be better ap- 
preciated by contrasting it with the other seasons of 
the year. Winter, with its dull monotony of snow 
and storms, has passed away ; summer, with its op- 
pressive heat, is approaching ; and spring, mild and 
playful, like the lamb which sports in the green pas- 
ture, stays a short time, and then glides into sultry 
summer. 

How much like spring is the season of youth, when 
the budding intellect and fancy seem to revel in their 
own sweet profusion. Human existence is frequently 
compared to a wilderness or desert, and the actors in 
life's drama are likened unto the traveler of some 



34 INKLINGS. 

barren waste, whose present enjoyment is derived 
from anticipation of future good, or from pleasing re- 
flections upon the past. Whatever happiness we may 
occasionally experience from the present hour, there 
are many, many times, when the vacuum which we 
feel, if not the positive pain, compels us to acknowl- 
edge the truth of this representation. Man seldom or 
never rests satisfied with his present condition, how- 
ever prosperous : and whatever may be his efforts to 
bring his rebellious passions into subjection to the will 
of Heaven, they will sometimes escape' through some 
unguarded avenue of the heart, and travel in search 
of riches, pleasure or power. But experience teaches 
us to restrain the ardor, and moderate the expecta- 
tions of youth. The airy castles of childhood van- 
ish, " and like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave 
not a wreck behind." Not a wreck ! Yes, they do 
leave wrecks of bright hopes, fair prospects, ardent 
affections, and all which once made an Eden upon 
earth. But if the cold and cheerless realities of the 
world teach us to chastise the juvenile fancy, and 
ruined hopes and blighted prospects say to us, beware, 
when anticipating future success, and the playmates 
of our childhood, gone to the bourn whence no trav- 
eler returns, admonish us of the flight of time, and the 
frailty of life — we have one source of pleasure, of 
which it is not in the power of fortune to deprive us. 
As the eye of the traveler on the vast Sahara views 
the beautiful oasis surrounded by scorching plains of 
sand, as the mariner upon the briny deep views the 



INKLINGS. 35 

green isle which gems the bosom of the ocean, so 
view we the innocent days of childhood. Ascend the 
summit of the Andes, stand upon the glaciers of the 
Alps, the crater of iEtna, or wander among the ruins 
of classic Greece and Italy — the season of youth is 
still the bright and sunny spot in memory, when all 
was joy, and gladness, and hope. Issue the mandate 
for memory to forget the oasis of the desert, that 
green isle of the ocean, that sunny spot, and will it 
obey you? No! "You may as well forbid the 
mountain pines to wave their high tops and to wail 
the blast, when they are fretted by the gusts of heav- 
en." But we must travel on, though we would glad- 
ly linger around our childhood's home. Each day 
brings its own cares and duties, and if we undertake 
to embalm in memory and carry with us too much 
of the past, it may prove an incumbrance to the 
present. 

In a republican government, every individual is 
under obligations, both to himself and society, of no 
small consideration. To obey the laws of the land, 
is not his only duty. He has an influence in making 
those laws, and without an extensive knowledge of 
subjects of general interest, he may do harm where 
he intended good. No one idea will prepare him to 
act wisely. He should cultivate extensive and liberal 
views upon subjects of a national interest, and forget 
not, that when the great charter of our freedom is de- 
stroyed, it may never be replaced, except through the 
convulsive struggles of another revolution. In look- 



36 INKLINGS 

ing at the history of the past, as great changes may- 
be seen in the rise, progress and overthrow of nations, 
as great changes in the arts and sciences, as those 
which follow in regular order the changing seasons. 
A glance at the history of the past, will prove that the 
greatest intellectual improvements have been follow- 
ed by mental darkness, and that nations once capa- 
ble of the most splendid achievements, have sunk into 
almost hopeless degradation. Egypt was once the 
cradle of the sciences. The Egyptians, living under 
a sky that was always cloudless, seemed invited by 
the twinkling luminaries above them, to examine their 
situation and motion. The invitation was not disre- 
garded, and they laid the foundation upon which 
future ages have built a superstructure that surpasses 
in grandeur the loftiest conceptions of the mind. The 
soil of Egypt is fertilized by the overflowing of the 
Nile, but the cause of its fruitiulness swept away the 
land-marks of the cultivators of the soil, and obliged 
them to have recourse to their own ingenuity to as- 
certain the limits of their plantations. In their fruit- 
ful expedients to ascertain the limits of their planta- 
tions, they invented the science of geometry. They 
likewise made considerable advancement in literature, 
and at one time they had so far surpassed their neigh- 
bors, that it was thought necessary for a young man 
of aspiring hopes, to travel through Egypt for the pur- 
pose of completing his education. Its present condi- 
tion, when compared with its former eminence in the 
scale of nations, is truly deplorable. Once the busy 



INKLINGS. 

scene where thousands were engaged in the cons mo- 
tion of public works, and those vast piles whi 
centuries have escaped the corroding touch of tic : 
at present, it presents none of those enterprisk 
jects, none of that intellectual character whicl 
made it the admiration of the world. It is inl 
by a semi-barbarous race, the deluded followe] 
Mohammedan imposture, and its former greatness 
known by its splendid ruins. In perusing the pa 
which chronicle past events, it seems like travel- 
over a vast, sandy desert, with here and there a i 
fertile spots interspersed amid an ocean of sal 
Those bright spots in history, like the fertile oiie- 
a barren waste, are delightful to the eye of the tri- 
er, and he lingers with pleasure among their verd 
lawns, leafy forests, and murmuring water-falls. E 
he must be an unobservant traveler, who cannot ga 
er something even from a desert journey ; ana 
must have been an unprofitable student of histo: 
who has not learned important truths in tracing 
decay and ruin of nations. It is more pleasant, j 
haps, to contemplate brilliant achievements, great \ I 
losophical and scientific discoveries; but its use, ~ 
ness will amply repay us for turning our attention 
the causes, frequently unseen and unknown, wi. 
operate so effectually in the collapse and ruin of na- 
tions of the greatest celebrity. I do not wish to 
understood that the philosophers, the orators, 
statesmen and the generals who have flourished 
ring a nation's prosperity, and their deeds of benevo- 
3 



38 INKLINGS, 

lence and philanthropy, which may have had an in- 
fluence long after their names have ceased to be re- 
membered, should not receive all merited admiration, 
and be made the models of those who aspire after 
superior excellence. But while we attend to the 
means by which nations and individuals have attain- 
ed an enviable eminence, we should turn an inqui- 
ring eye to the causes of national decline, and the 
frailties and vices which have paralyzed individual 
exertion. This is the more necessary, as there is com- 
ad to us a hallowed trust, which we are bound 
fully to discharge by the most weighty consider- 
ations. This sacred trust is the boon of freedom. 
We live in a country which is emphatically called 
the land of liberty. That all men are created free 
and equal, is an axiom in its political faith ; and 
erhed by this and kindred principles, it has arisen 
m the condition of British colonies, to the most 
sperous and happy nation in the world; and as 
the principles which govern us as a free people, are 
not the production of a summer sunshine, we trust 
r will not wither under the influence of a winter 
storm. Judging the future by its past success, we 
should expect that even more auspicious days are 
yet to dawn upon our national career. But is this 
certain? There are common dangers, rocks and 
whirlpools that have wrecked the fondest hopes of 
nations which have gone before us. Egypt once en- 
joyed as proud an eminence as any nation whose 
history is recorded ; and now w^e can only lament its 



INKLINGS. 39 

departed greatness, and exclaim — sic transit gloria 
mundi! This may be considered too sad a picture 
to present for young America, while her presiding 
genius with dilating eye watches over her future des- 
tiny, directing her onward course with a strong arm, 
and a helm obedient to the directing hand. It is 
true it presents many dark shades, but it may be con- 
templated with some profitable reflections. 



CHAPTER IV, 



And now, upon the winding way of time, 
With thoughts we gather from a distant clime, 
While young pastimes may in memor}' bloom, 
And thus relieve us from a present gloom, 
We travel on. May no disasters stay us, 
Ko fond hopes of future good betray us, 
No evil genius on the road delay us, 
Ko dark clouds in somber hue array us, 
While from green bank or gayly scented field, 
The wild flower may by its sweetness yield 
A trace to its retreat ; or on the bough above, 
We see those messengers of nature's love, 
And listen for a moment to their song, 
Or things more useful may our stay prolong. 

We pause, as did a celebrated hero of antiquity, 
upon the banks of the Rubicon ; not that our reflec- 
tions are of as much importance to the world, as the 



INKLINGS. 41 

cogitations which disturbed the mental caliber of that 
celebrated individual ; but then, we are all of us 
sometimes in as great a quandary. "We pause, not 
for a reply to anything which has been said, for if it 
is not unanswerable, we expect to hear from it wi h- 
out a pause; nor for the want of materials where- 
with to proceed, — but for the plain reason, that there 
is doubt about the best course to pursue. However, 
we will try to make a pleasant trip somewhere, and 
speculate a little on the way. Suppose we examine 
private correspondence, and see if there is not some- 
thing which may be introduced with prepiiety. Here 
is a rhyming epistle to my sister, which you shall 
have and judge for yourself, of its propriety, and the 
state of feeling which at that time prevailed. 



This, Sister, is designed to be 
A few, brief lines from S. D. P., 
In which, one part will be for song, 
To make the numbers move along, 
And keep all parts in a good rhyme, 
To measure well with poet's time ; 
The other part shall well unfold, 
Few of the thousand things untold, 
Both important and non-essentiaIP 3 
"Which you will take without credentials ; 
And which Lave happened to your brother, 
TVhile in the world without a mother, 



42 INKLINGS. 

And traveling o'er it, far and near, 

To find one sympathizing tear. 

And now, to execute my plan : 

I am yet what they call a man, 

Some six feet and a trifle oyer, 

And have been fat as pigs in clover ; 

But now, for three or four weeks past, 

(And how much longer it will last, 

Ye gods propitious only know, 

Who from above your bolts do throw !) 

To tell you all the honest truth, 

Have felt but little like a youth. 

But when the clouds, which seem to lie 

Above us in an open sky, 

And from above, on us look down, . 

With gloom and threat'ning in their frown, 

Have passed away, and left no trace 

To mark the very spot or place, 

How bright the sunshine which succeeds, 

And from the same dark place proceeds ! 

Could I but see once more thine eye, 

And hear that voice, and press that hand, 

And know indeed that thou wert nigh — 

That I was not in stranger land — 

Then I should feel as blithe and gay 

As wild-wood bird in month of May. 

The hair-breadth 'scapes, the 'ventures bold. 

Of beetling cliff and mountain rill — 

The thousand things unseen, untold, 



INKLINGS. 43 



Which yet the imagination fill — 
Would only add to length of song, 
And now a weary note prolong. 
So now farewell, may blessings greet you, 
And fortune kind forever treat you ! 



There is more of this private correspondence, suf- 
ficient, perhaps, to make a volume ; but some of it is 
too private to be of general interest, and some, too 
full of private interest to be of general notoriety. 
Well, let that pass, and we will proceed to the ex? 
ination, investigation, or elucidation of something 
without these formidable objections. The progress- 
ive spirit of the age, is an interesting subject for r 
templation, and cannot have escaped the notice, even 
of a careless observer of things around him. It is 
opposed to that conservative principle, which a 
tenaciously to established usages and customs, : 
adopts with the greatest facility those innovations . 
improvements, which recommend themselves to be 
of practical importance. 

This progressive spirit may sometimes conduct its 
possessor through schemes of doubtful utility, but 
should hesitate to condemn that which has advanc 
the present so far be3^ond preceding ages, in useful 
inventions and improvements. There are immuta 
principles and truths which time, place, and eircu 
stance can never change ; and while the conservati 
principle adheres to these, the progressive spirit rejec ! s 



INKLINGS. 

a new thing, because it is new, if not inconsis- 
ith these general truths. 
A large development of the organ hope, seems to 
leading characteristic of the present age, and it 
Suit to conceive a state of society in which it is 
t of the most interesting features. Few have 
tny time so far obtained their wishes, as to be sat- 
ith present attainments. A very few, favored 
surrounding circumstances, may have conferred 
great benefits upon communities, and may have 
i so highly esteemed by others, that, in the enjoy- 
it of glory arising from the past, they have forgot" 
he hopes and fears of the future, which form the 
t interesting feature in the minds of most men. 
if this be true with respect to a few, it is very 
rent with a large majority. In their pursuit of 
future, they forget the present, and only recall 
past, for the assistance which its experience can 
them in their eager pursuit of that which is be- 
them. It may be said, that the desire of some 
:t, is the cause of the action and anxiety which 
urb the repose of so many ; and it may be replied, 
the desire of any object, however strong, would 
be a sufficient incentive to action, unless that de- 
were attended with the hope of finally attaining 
3Ct. This hope, which "springs eternal in the 
nan breast," is not confined to republican govern - 
its, or limited to monarchical ones; neither is its 
luence confined to the most refined state of socie- 
The sage and the savage may both act under 



INKLINGS. 45 

its influence for the attainment of widely different 
objects. The. one, may labor with the hope of dedu- 
cing some new principle in theory, or making an im- 
portant practical discovery, which shall benefit future 
ages and add imperishable luster to his name ; the 
other, may labor with the hope of excelling in the 
dexterity of his movements, of surpassing his compe- 
titors in the chase, or the ambition of his warlike 
neighbors in the glory of daring exploits. The stim- 
ulating power of hope is not confined to schemes of 
exalted ambition, nor to the noble efforts of distin- 
guished philanthropy. 

All classes and conditions of men are influenced by 
this element, which pervades universal society, and 
seems to be an inherent principle in man himself. Its 
power might, perhaps, be better appreciated by sup- 
posing a community entirely destitute of its influence. 
We can not tell precisely what its effect would be, yet 
we may presume, it would not be intelligent, enter- 
prising, or useful. But it is not necessary to suppose 
a society deprived of its influence, to know, that the 
influence which it exerts is powerful, and that the 
stimulus of hope often rouses the dormant energies of 
individuals to action, which results in individual dis- 
tinction, and the benefit of whole communities. Ful- 
ton never would have improved the steam engine, 
however ardent his desire might have been to confer 
a favor upon the community, had he not been encour- 
aged during his efforts, with the hope of finally ac- 
complishing his purpose. Numerous other instances 
3* 



46 INKLINGS. 

of a similar kind, might be mentioned. Washington. 
with all his philanthropy, would never have under- 
taken the contest with British power for the rescue of 
his country's inalienable rights, if he had not cher- 
ished in his bosom the fond hope, that his hardships 
and sufferings would result in the emancipation of 
his country from British tyranny. Its influence is 
not confined to those who are toiling in pursuit of 
fame, or for the accomplishment of objects resulting 
in the greatest consequences. It visits the sick bed, 
and administers its reviving cordial to the invalid 
weakened with suffering and pain. It cheers the 
tempest-tossed mariner with the anticipation of reach- 
ing his. destined In.ven, freighted with all his wishes. 
Nature, impartial in her operations, bestows her pleas- 
ing hopes on all men ; writes as with a sunbeam her 
immutable laws on all around, and by their regular- 
ity, variety and beauty, invites all to study and ad- 
mire, them. Her laws are not like the fancy sketches 
of a novelist, which please when they are first read, 
but lose their pleasure upon a secor.d perusal. They 
are facts, which, from their intimate connection with 
man's existence and welfare, as well as from their na- 
tural greatness and beauty, are always sources of the 
purest pleasure to every mind capable of appreciating 
their usefulness and beauty. Nor is their extent or 
number so limited as to furnish a subject for contem- 
plation without variety ; at one time, conducting the 
mind through regions vast as the creation which they 
sustain, and at another, inviting it to observe the in- 



INKLINGS 47 

stinctive faculties of an ephemeral insect. Yet this 
subject, so extensive, pure and noble, it must be ac- 
knowledged, presents few allurements to many, who 
prefer seeking pleasure in trifling vanities or artificial 
amusements. But to the lover of nature, her immu- 
table laws present an ample field, where, if he cannot 
gather the warrior's laurels or the statesman's wreath, 
he can revel among more prolific sources of enjoy- 
ment. Nature's laws are immutable, and herself re- 
juvenated yearly, presents no symptoms of decay; 
but time writes its wrinkles on man's smooth brow, 
dims the luster of his eye, and renders dull the acuta 
perception of his ear. 



CHAPTER V. 



Romance has become an important characteristic 
in the literature of the age, and may, perhaps, be 
classed with those refinements of sculpture, painting 
and poetry, which accompany an advanced state of 
civilization. Some condemn every thing which is 
fiction, and others devour it with the utmost rapacity. 
The course between extremes is generally the best, 
and that is the one which we will pursue. Without 
undertaking to advocate the cause of those foolish 
and corrupting stories which prove the imbecility of 
the writers, and the depraved taste which demands 
them, we shall advocate the general principle, that 
fiction may convey important instruction upon all the 
great subjects connected with man's welfare, as a sen- 
tient, social and moral being. I have heard the coarse 
and vulgar remark, it's a lie, all a lie, applied to many 
works of fiction, by those who were entirely ignorant 
of their contents. But what is a lie ? It is an untruth 
told for the purpose of deceiving ; as when a man 



INKLINGS. 4 ( J 

in disposing of a horse, says, he is kind and true, 
which is not a fact, or neglects to disclose some se- 
cret fault or defect, and thereby obtains more than 
his real value. The suppression of a truth may be 
as much a lie, as the suggestion of a falsehood. Ac- 
cording to the definition which they give to the term, 
a man would have no right to suppose a case for the 
purpose of illustrating a point in argument ; iEsop's 
Fables, Paradise Lost, those interesting moral tales 
in Sunday School libraries, and even the parables of 
the Scripture must be condemned. 

With these few remarks on this much abused sub- 
ject, we will turn our attention to a little romance, to 
relieve the monotony of the way, in which one may 
discover a moral truth, another may see an acquaint- 
ance, and a third may observe some one, or some 
thing, not seen by either of the others. Let me see 
where the scene shall be ; not before the deluge, that 
would be too far off; Persia in the days'of Alexan- 
der might do, but their language, habits and customs 
are so different from ours, that we should feel rather 
awkward with Persian gear on. Shall it be in Greece 
or Rome ? No, shades of departed orators forbid S 
It might be among the French peasantry in some de- 
lightful valley, with fair cottages and vineyards, but 
I fear making bad work talking French ; and then I 
might make them say or do something that would 
shame them, if they should ever hear of it. The 
olden time of England might do, if the pen of Scott 
had not recalled from their slumber the mighty spir- 



50 INKLINGS. 

its of the past, till few are left to answer a modern 
invocation, and they might refuse to obey any but 
the mighty Wizard of the North. A western orator 
says, " the largest rivers, the highest mountains, the 
loudest thunder, the handsomest girls, and the great- 
est turnups in all creation, grow in our own splendif- 
erous country." Here too are mounds and ancient 
fortifications, notched by passing centuries, where the 
lover of antiquity can find sufficient mystery around 
the footsteps of time for curiosity to feed on busy con- 
jecture ; here, in our own country, are the remnants 
of a former race, with their interesting peculiarities, . 
and here are the homes, hopes and wishes of those 
who would gladden their fire-sides with an old ac- 
quaintance, in preference to a stranger. Here, then, 
the scene shall be. We will enter one of the school- 
houses of Western New- York, situated on four cor- 
ners in the midst of a farming neighborhood, and 
selecting our characters from its inmates, will see 
what can be made of them. For the sake of distinc- 
tion, the little village in the center of the community 
where the school house is located, shall be called 
Greenville ; the school teacher, Master Birch. The 
other characters will develop themselves as we pro- 
gress. He was a specimen of the genus homo, with 
his own peculiarities, as, in fact, every one has some- 
thing to distinguish him from every other, and yet 
his appearance would not attract particular attention 
in a crowd of strangers. He was about the usual 
size, wore no clothing extraordinary for its neatness 



INKLINGS. 51 

or otherwise, and -might have been passed by a stran- 
ger with the single reflection, that he was one of the 
race to which himself belonged. When addressed, 
there was an expression of frankness and benevo- 
lence upon his countenance, and in his tone and man- 
ner, which might make you feel contented and dig- 
nified, without exalting him a penny-worth in your 
estimation ; but in his mild, hazel eye. which seem- 
ed to kindle a little as its depths were explored, a 
searching observer might have read, or thought he 
read, like one of those? ancient inscriptions half oblit- 
erated by time ; " I have rights which you will of 
course respect." His favorite motto was, fiat justitia 
ruat coelum ; and with an extensive, scientific, literary 
and general knowledge, and an ambition which is the 
natural result of that knowledge, it seems as if he 
'must have been designed to play a conspicuous part 
in the great drama of human affairs ; but fate clip- 
ped the thread of his destiny, and left him, not to 
teach listening senates to hang with rapture on his 
accents, but to teach the young and tender idea how 
to vegetate. He understood all this perfectly well, 
and with a resignation which might have been an 
ornament to primitive martyrs, he fulfilled his desti- 
ny. On that eventful morning so full of interest and 
curiosity to the juvenile mind, when Master Birch 
commenced his task, he did not make any of those 
unusual, oratorical displays and demonstrations, to 
which some may have listened on similar occasions; 
as for instance, that twenty-five or thirty boys in the 



52 INKLINGS. 

same neighborhood might rise up and each become 
governor of the State in the course of a very few 
years, say ten or fifteen, because tall oaks do grow 
from little acorns. Nothing of this kind happened. 
At the usual hour, he requested them to take their 
accustomed places, and when all was still, began to 
talk with them in a quiet, familiar way. He told 
them, he supposed they had some correct ideas about 
a school ; that they came there for the purpose of 
learning what they could, that they should come ev- 
ery day, and be there early, and remain till school 
closed. To this they readily assented. They also 
acknowledged, that it would be of no consequence 
for them to come, unless some rules and regulations 
were adopted for the purpose of preserving order. 
But for the present, he left them to manage for them- 
selves, telling them, he should adopt such rules from 
time to time, as circumstances might make necessary. 
For a few days, time passed away without any unu- 
sual occurrence, and Master Birch began to congrat- 
ulate himself that in his obscurity he should escape 
many annoyances and vexations, which might have 
attended a course of more exalted usefulness. There 
was in the school, about the usual amount of loqua- 
city, fun and frolic, love, pride, envy and hatred ; 
but these little nestlings of human evil, yet unfledged, 
were restrained by their respect for the master, and 
their fear of future rules and regulations. It is im- 
possible to give full length portraits of each individ- 
ual in this little community ; even the few which 



INKLINGS. 53 

may be attempted, will be only sketches to be filled 
up by the reader to suit his own taste. It has been 
said that human nature is the same, the world over ; 
but if it is, it makes very different developments, un- 
der the varying circumstances of different individu- 
als. This remark, in substance, has escaped the lips 
of many teachers ; if all the boys were like little 
Johnny, or all the girls like little Lizy, how much 
pleasanter it would be. Were it not ior these differ- 
ences in taste, sentiment, feeling, inclination, the 
leading motives of action, the history of one individ- 
ual would be the history of the whole world, under 
the same circumstances. 

But to return to the school room. Among the 
group of little girls which assembles there daily, and 
may be seen at certain times, on any pleasant day, 
'playing upon the green near by, there is one who 
claims particular attention, for she now receives it 
from her playmates, being the universal favorite. 
Let us approach carefully, and examine the little 
group upon the green. They have been very busy 
rolling the hoop, skipping the rope, and doing other 
things which children will do for relaxation and 
amusement ; and the intensives, fine, nice, grand, O 
how pretty, which escaped them, show how deep is the 
interest which they feel in their little pastimes. Now 
their former sports are left, and they seat themselves 
in a circle upon the green grass, in the shade of a 
tree which seems to them to be wonderful, on accot 
of its size, form, and at least a dozen other particu- 



54 INKLINGS. 

lars. In the center of this ring is one whom we will 
name Grace, not Grace Greenwood, for fear she might 
be offended with the familiarity ; we will take half 
the name and put a garland on it, and then of course 
she will be too modest to show any resentment. 
Grace Garland was a lovely girl, for nature had be- 
stowed a pleasing exterior, which was a true index 
to the more ennobling qualities of the mind and 
heart. Her whole appearance was interesting in the 
combination of form, motion and general expression, 
not so much in giving you distinct and rigid ideas 
upon any particular subject, as in that pleasing im- 
pression which it made. upon you, without entering 
into a minute examination. Into the depths of her 
clear, blue eye, as into the cloudless sky of a summer 
evening, you might gaze and see those stars of small- 
er magnitude, at first unobserved, emerge from obscu- 
rity, one by one, as you lingered in its depths ; and 
they would amply repay you for the investigation 
which it seemed to invite. Her glossy locks might 
not rival the plumage of a raven's wing, for a soften- 
ing shade had been thrown over their otherwise too 
strong a contrast with her neck of snowy whiteness, 
where they seemed to recline in reposing luxury, un- 
equaled by the magnificence of oriental monarchs. 
Her teeth seemed formed of Parian marble, and her 
lips, two rose buds first unfolding their petals to the 
light, and around her mouth played a smile, at cer- 
tain times, which might remind you of young dreams 
of Elysian fields in the spirit land. The group are 



INKLINGS. 55 

now busy in relating the various little incidents and 
accidents of the day, each one relating an item or 
two in her own history, and instinctively turning to 
the center of the ring, for a kind ear and unaffected 
sympathy. 

Julia Brown met a large dog, in the morning, on 
her way to school, which frightened her very much ; 
Ellen Vernon saw a strange looking man with a bun- 
dle under his arm. and ran into a house and remained 
while he was passing ; and Edith Green saw T two 
fierce loooking men on horseback ; — but the bell 
rings, and they run like a flock of lambs to the school 
room. In its vicinity, was a brook or rivulet, its di- 
mensions varying with the season, pursuing its wind- 
ing course through meadow, field and wood, and ter- 
minating in a pond which turned the wheel, that 
ground the wheat, that made the bread for the vil- 
lage, and all the nice little cakes for the juveniles. 
They seemed to owe this stream a debt of gratitude, 
which they were anxious to pay by frequent visita- 
tions ; and on many a pleasant Saturday afternoon, 
the music of the babbling brook was the chorus to 
the passing music on its banks, which were revealed, 
far in advance, by the green willows and tall grass, 
which fringed the margin of the stream. Here, Pe- 
ter Brown, William Johnson, John Vernon, and oth- 
ers too numerous to mention, with their fishing tackle, 
and the little girls, their sisters and playmates, pass- 
ed, occasionally an afternoon, which, if it did not ri- 
val Cleopatra's reception of Marc Anthony, was equal- 



56 INKLINGS. 

ly well for them, as they did not know the difference. 
A little fish which would furnish bait for a real fish- 
erman, was a matter of extravagant surprise and ges- 
ticulation ; and at least a dozen pages might be writ- 
ten, without describing the passage, by the assistance 
of some fallen tree, over this Arno of the young lite- 
rati. One afternoon they had gone further than usual, 
and arrived all safe at the extremity of the pond, 
where the stream extends its dimensions over an area 
of several acres, and here the boys prepared lor pull- 
ing ashore some of those monsters of the deep, which 
they asserted should grow in proportion to the size of 
the water. The girls, in the interim, were busy in 
plucking the wild flowers around them, or examining 
the pebbles upon the shore. At one time, they were 
all seated in a row upon the bank, each viewing the 
other's image traced upon the smooth surface of the 
stream, and suggesting various reflections, as true, 
without doubt, as those before them. Thus passed 
the afternoon, and as the declining sun reminded 
them of home and its comforts, they prepared to re- 
trace their steps, with a sufficient quantity of the 
scaly tribe to furnish an epicurean repast for a dis- 
tinguished dignitary of Barnuni's museum, known 
by the familiar appellation of Tom Thumb. A few 
rods above their starting place, in crossing the stream, 
Peter accidentally brought a fish suddenly in con- 
tact with Ellen's hand, which caused her to sprin 
forward, and precipitate Grace into the stream below 
It would seem to be Peter's duty, under the circum- 



b 



INKLINGS. 57 

stances, to rescue the sufferer ; and he would have 
undertaken the business, as soon as he could cross the 
stream and safely deposit the innocent cause of the 
catastrophe ; but William Johnson was not the one to 
pause and make calculations, when Grace was in 
danger, and leaping into the stream, which was not 
very deep, though a timid girl might have been 
drowned there, and encircling her in his arms, con- 
veyed her dripping to the shore. This little acci- 
dent caused some delay, the sober countenance of the 
boys, testifying their respect, and the tear starting to 
the eye of her more intimate companions, pure as the 
dew-drop on the rose, speaking their tender solicitude 
for her welfare. She soon recovered her composure, 
and telling William, with artless simplicity, she ho- 
ped he would not forget the kindness, for she was 
sure she never should, they proceeded to their homes, 
where they arrived with appetite and weariness suf- 
ficient to give a keen relish to their frugal suppers, 
and make their slumbers of that dreamy kind which 
mingles real events with the unrestrained wanderings 
of fancy. 



CHAPTER VI. 



The shades of Night withdraw, and the gray east 

Dispels her gloomy specters. She held her sway 

While weary man refreshed him with balmy 

Slumbers ; this accomplished, she retires with 

Quickened pace, before the genial influence 

Of morn's bright herald. The feathered songsters 

Chant their artless strains, the listening fields, decked 

With the richest green, and moistened by the 

Dews of night, mingle their incense with sweet 

Melodies, in honor of their Author. 

All Nature wakes, as if first touched by the 

Potent hand of its Creator ; the blooming 

Earth, so nicely blended with the gay, the 

Gaudy, and the beautiful, mocks the power 

Of art. Who has not felt words powerless to 

Describe the enchantment of that placid 

Smile which nature wears, in sweet mornings of 

The Spring? 



INKLINGS. 59 

We left our little fishermen in quiet slumbers, from 
which it is time to awake them, that they may not 
lose the enjoyment of such a morning as the above 
description may recall to memory. They are soon 
awake and laughing; and such clear, silver-toned 
music ! None of your regrets, disappointments and 
remorse, mingle with the sounds. No ! Tt is joy, ail 
joy and nothing else ; and sometimes its piercing 
depths are startling from their delirious wildness. It 
seems a pity that man's feelings should ever violate 
the harmony of the visible creation, but the clouded 
brow and restless eye tell too plainly, that birds and 
sunshine lose their power to please. Dream on, ye 
dreamers, while ye may, and revel in fancy's gay of- 
ferings ; for perchance the future may tinge your sky 
with a leaden hue, and make the now delicious mu- 
sic grate harsher on the ear, than the croaking often 
thousand bullfrogs ! The juveniles had almost for- 
gotten they had ever seen such a man as Master 
Birch ; but the school room and lessons, as well as 
his personal appearance, soon recalled the images of 
departed days. To some, the school room seemed 
a prison, the lessons a hard task, and white the teach- 
er was wearying himself to explain some dark point 
and make it clear to their comprehension, they would 
wonder how much longer he was going to talk, and 
how long before they would go out to play ; and as 
he became absorbed in the elucidation of mysteries, 
one would watch a fly in its course from his desk to 
the plastering over head, and then from desk to desk 



60 INKLINGS. 

around the school room, and wonder, why the mas- 
ter should make any invidious distinctoins, and per- 
mit it to buzz about without restraint, while he was 
bound to remain without locomotion : and another 
would watch the down of a thistle, as it sailed in 
through the open window, about the room, and wish 
himself divested of size and weight, so that he 
could recline upon it and unperceived glide round the 
room, take a survey of all things therein, and then 
outward bound, float away, he cared not where, pro- 
vided it were away from the school room. Others 
were there who could appreciate his labors, and by 
the interest which they manifested in his explanations, 
even when they did not fully understand them, ap- 
plied a soothing balm to his feelings when they were 
lacerated by this barbarous inattention to his scientif- 
ic explanations ; and when his eye rested full and 
fair upon delinquents, they were instantly reminded 
of some proverb of Solomon, or sage reflection of his 
own, which made them feel, as if it would take a 
strong floor to keep them from sinking through it : 
and when he, as he sometimes would, relaxed into a 
mild expression, and told them he feared they had 
forgotten the story of the mouse and cable, which he 
told them the other day, or in some other, gentle way, 
reminded them of their culpability, the long breath 
which followed the announcement, showed how great 
had been their anxiety, and how much they were re- 
lieved by the happy termination of their expected dif- 
ficulties. Thus time passed away, marked by the 



INKLINGS, (31 

incidents which vary its usual course, more than by 
the return of those Tegular, daily events, -which make 
all days seem so much alike, that we can scarcely 
distinguish them. If Master Birch had not become 
Sir Oracle, he had become a school master, whom, 
even mischievous and turbulent boys had found a 
matter of policy for themselves to respect : and the 
villagers generally gave him credit for learning and 
ability, mental, moral and physical, to instruct a com- 
mon school. 

The village of Greenville was a very quiet, little 
place, nearly destitute of an article which fills the 
market, and disquiets the slumbers of many a little 
neighborhood : we refer to scandal and the love of it ; 
that propensity to say things derogatory to the char- 
acter of others, whether true or not ; that appetite 
which can be satisfied only with the vices, frailties 
and imperfections of others, like those worms that 
revel in putrefaction. It is true, that one afternoon 
at a tea party, a certain lady ventured to suggest an 
improvement in the parson's mode of life ; but the 
withering frown which met her on all sides, forever 
silenced that subject, unless she wished to stand alone 
and unassisted. It was afterwards suspected that it 
was a mere feint, made for the purpose of ascertain- 
ing positions, reckoning latitude and longitude, or as 
is sometimes said, finding out which way the wind 
blows. It was evident she had some ulterior object 
in view, for she changed the position of her chair sev- 
eral times, seemed very uneasy, cast furtive glances 
4 



62 INKLINGS. 

around her, and at last made the remark, she did not 
believe that all teachers knew more than every body 
else. To this remark there was no reply, but it was 
more than suspected that her son, who had been de- 
tained one afternoon after the close of school, had 
made some complaint at home, to which his dear 
mother had listened w T ith becoming interest. It is 
not certainly known, that this was a fact ; but if it 
were not, it is difficult to account for her remark, and 
the manner in which it was made. Be that as it may ? 
the subject, by common consent, was never renewed. 
The arrival of the stage was an occurrence of daily 
interest, and the village inn was a favorite resort, es- 
pecially in the evening, for discussing the news of 
the day and various important matters connected 
with the welfare of the little community ; and if, as 
happened now and then, " like angels' visits, few and 
far between," a stranger made his residence there for 
a few days, for fresh air, retirement and observation 
of men, manners and scenery around him, the sensa- 
tion which was created, was astonishjpg to them- 
selves, if not to a stranger. The merry twinkle of 
the landlord's eye upon such occasions, might make 
one a little suspicious of his temperance principles^ 
and it was astonishing to hear the squire, as every 
body called him, launch out fearlessly into the sea of 
politics and political economy, proving beyond an or- 
dinary demonstration, the precise results of certain 
measures, even those remote, future and contingent 
results which can only be discovered by a phiioso- 



INKLINGS. 63 

phic mind. The only objection to his speeches was, 
there were so many ifs and provisoes, that he never 
committed himself to any men or measures ; and he 
evidently was proud of this course, which, as he some- 
times said, left others to make the personal applica- 
tion. Some of the villagers had even requested his 
advice relative to voting, but with a modesty and pa- 
triotism which exalted him very high in their estima- 
tion, he declined, saying, that the men to whose care 
was intrusted the preservation of our glorious free- 
dom, should discharge their duties with a full, free, 
deliberate investigation, without the assistance of the 
personal prejudice and interested motives of others, 
which would generally do more harm than good ; 
and for his own part, he did not wish to assume the 
fearful responsibility of directing their choice among 
the men and measures of the day. 

Deacon Brown was always a respectful listener to 
the general conversation at the inn, and by partici- 
pating in the more serious subjects, as well as by the 
respectful seriousness of his countenance, restrained 
the mirthful propensity of the juveniles, who were so 
overawed by the grand solemnity of the man, that 
they sometimes dreamed of seeing him with his fin- 
ger pointed at them, after doing something they con- 
sidered wrong, and the vision was sure to haunt them 
for a long time. There are other characters, equally 
worthy of remembrance in the chronicles of Green- 
ville ; the merchant, so amiable at the counter, that 
it was really a pleasure to give him your money in 



64 INKLINGS. 

exchange for articles you might need ; the industri- 
ous blacksmith, whose ringing anvil was the morning 
bell that roused many a sleeper ; and others, whose 
names and deeds will long be remembered by the in- 
habitants, although they may escape the pages of 
veritable history ; may, indeed, whip round the cor- 
ner of forgetfulness, and live fre§h in memory, after 
those embalmed in books shall have become rusty 
and musty on an upper shelf, and the rightful prop- 
erty of some itinerant vender of tin ware. But there 
is one more character which must not be forgotten in 
these hasty pencilings ; the village parson. Mild, 
modest and amiable in his deportment, with that 
agreeable suavity of manners, which, without the 
least appearance of cringing sycophancy, presents a 
resistless recommendation to the good opinion of oth- 
ers ; he was not only the idol of his flock, but exten- 
ded a salutary influence over those who did not ac- 
knowledge his guardian care, and yet felt the influ- 
ence of that living example of Christian character. 
His peculiar style of oratory, must be witnessed to be 
fully appreciated ; words can give you but a faint 
outline. His appearance in the desk was plain and 
simple ; so severe was his simplicity, so free from 
ostentatious display and affectation of every kind, 
that the listener might look for some display of the 
man, some peculiar characteristics, as a relief to this 
single, predominating impression, which his first ap- 
pearance indelibly impressed upon the memory. He 
commenced his subject in that low, musical tone 



INKLINGS. 65 

which at once attracted attention by the melody of 
the intonations. He seemed to be perfectly familiar 
with his theme, and too much interested in it him- 
self, to stoop to ridicule or low invective ; not so much 
because they might not be used, as for the reason, 
that they would impair the dignity of the cause which 
he advocated. As he advanced and placed before his 
listener the hisiorical events of nations and individu- 
als, for the purpose of recommending those mild pre- 
cepts of Christianity as an effectual remedy for the 
evils which have afflicted society, his own deep im- 
pression of their truth, could not fail to find a respon- 
sive echo in those feelings which had been won to 
his interest, by his simple and persuasive power. 
His style was the result of much care and attention, 
which he willingly bestowed upon it, that he might 
accomplish his noble purposes. With this hasty out- 
line of Greenville and its inhabitants, you can, per- 
haps, with the assistance of the imagination in the 
details, give yourself a satisfactory view of this little 
community. There were, in this, as in most other 
societies, so'me whose imperfections, if they would not 
bear a harsher name, would cast a dark shade over 
the picture ; but we will throw the mantle of charity 
over them, instead of lifting the veil for the purpose 
of seeing men and actions, the contemplation of which 
would make a melancholy contrast with the design- 
ed dignity of human nature, and with those nobler 
characteristics which we may contemplate and ad- 
mire, with the pleasing reflection, that if their exam- 



66 INKLINGS. 

pie should influence our conduct, it will be an influ- 
ence which we may never regret. It may be neces- 
sary to know the existence of vice, that we may be 
prepared to shun it ; but its lessons are not so few 
and unknown, that it is necessary to suppose any in- 
telligent reader, entirely unacquainted with them. 



CHAPTER VII. 



It is the month of September, and great interest 
and anxiety are manifested in Greenville, not only 
by the juveniles and Master Birch, but by their pa- 
rents and acquaintances, in that important day which 
closes the term of school. On the morning of 
that eventful day, the boys wash their hands and 
faces, and comb their hair with particular regard to 
neatness, and the girls put on their very nicest, new 
dresses. It is a public day at the school, and in the 
afternoon the teacher expects many of his patrons to 
be present, and the first half of the day is employed 
in making preparations ; in fact, for a week or more, 
everything has had a tendency that way — has been 
done with reference to an honorable display before 
the public. At last, the long-expected, half-wished, 
half-dreaded afternoon arrives, and with it as many 
visitors as can be conveniently accommodated. Mas- 
ter Birch is on the best terms with the whole school, 
and each one seems anxious to escape even a reprov- 



68 INKLINGS. 

ing glance from that eye which has been watched by 
some through the long summer days, with an anxie- 
ty known only to juvenile delinquents. The school 
had been informed, that the afternoon would be 
employed in a general review and examination, which 
would be closed by reading a few compositions from 
the more advanced ; and particular instructions had 
been given, that if any one were not sure of a cor- 
rect answer to any question proposed, he should re- 
main silent, and not expose himself to ridicule and 
the school to disrespect, by any incorrect or improper 
answers. Notwithstanding these precautions, some 
of the answers were more amusing than instructive 5 
but the general promptness and intelligence displayed, 
elicited the highest commendation from parents and 
friends. We will pass over a more particular descrip- 
tion of the other exercises, for the purpose of giving 
place to a few compositions which had been prepared 
for the occasion, and which were read by one who 
had been selected to perform the duty, for various 
reasons not necessary to enumerate. When the prop- 
er time came, he advanced to the teacher's desk and 
placed upon it a small bundle of literature, from 
which he made his first selection and commenced 
reading, while an almost breathless stillness pre- 
vailed. 



INKLINGS. 69 



A COMPOSITION. 



To be able to describe correctly, occurrences and 
scenes, and whatever we see and hear, is very desi- 
rable, but not often attainable. Some, however, pos- 
sess this power in a much greater degree than others, 
and although we claim no superiority in this particu- 
lar, yet, as it is a very desirable trait, we feel disposed 
to attempt its cultivation by an inadequate descrip- 
tion of a Composition. A Composition is one of 
those rare things, which, from their very nature, are 
difficult to describe, varying with its author from the 
sublime to the ridiculous ; and hence, the only way 
in which it can be done, is to be governed by general 
rules, and call extreme cases their exceptions. With 
this explanation of our task, we approach the dread- 
ed point; but before. we proceed directly to it, it may 
not be improper to speak of the sensations produced 
by the recurrence of the fatal day which calls for a 
production from the contents of our cranium, speak- 
ing after the manner of phrenology. We said, we 
would speak of them, for we can not describe them ; 
they beggar all description. We can not compare 
them with the toothache, for with that, we may feel 
calm and quiet with the exception of one toimenting 
nerve ; nor with the ague and fever, inasmuch as the 
mind is capable of enduring more intense suffering 
than the body. Perhaps those who have never writ- 
ten a composition, might be able to conceive some 
4* 



70 INKLINGS. 

faint idea of the task, if they have rode on horseback 
with speed beyond their control, or leaped from a 
coach in the act of upsetting. But we will not wan- 
der further from the point. A Composition is a sheet 
of paper, written and folded so as to give it the ap- 
pearance, before closely inspected, of a deed or bond, 
or something of equal importance. It consists of an 
introduction, proof negative, proof positive, and a con- 
clusion ; and the writer thinks, that all this is ar- 
ranged in the most systematic order, or at least, that it 
has cost sufficient trouble to have it so. It is the 
scholar's dread, the teacher's delight, and the per- 
plexity of all. It is handed to the instructor with 
much self-assurance ; but alas ! it returns from him 
"full of wounds and bruises." 

TYRO. 

This was read with satisfaction, and after a little 
whispering among the spectators, relating to the au- 
thorship of the production, he proceeded to make a 
second selection, which was read as follows : 



NIAGAKA FALLS. 



It is a singular and incomprehensible fact, that the 
sight of particular objects produces sensations, and 
the sight of different objects produces different sensa- 
tions. The vision is connected with the mind in 



INKLINGS. 71 

some way, but in a manner which we can not fully 
comprehend. Many of the productions of art pro- 
duce sensations of a very agreeable nature, but they 
are generally admitted to be inferior to the works of 
nature. The mind enjoys with peculiar gratification 
the scenery of a beautiful landscape. The sight of 
a majestic river or lofty mountain is far from produ- 
cing disagreeable sensations. To behold extensive 
fields on every side, or the blue vault above us with 
its twinkling luminaries, will bring into exercise feel- 
ings with which we are all familiar. But the feel- 
ings of awe, veneration and insufficiency, are proba- 
bly raised to their highest extent, by viewing the cat- 
aract between this State and Canada, unquestionably 
the grandest on the globe. It is situated in the river 
Niagara, which drains the waters of seven lakes 
and bays, (one of which is the largest collection of 
fresh water in the world,) and numerous rivers which 
empty into them. The river commences near Buffa- 
lo, and is for some distance about three-fourths of a 
mile wide, and from twenty to forty feet deep. The 
current here is quite rapid, but further towards the 
falls the river spreads out to the width of seven or 
eight miles, including several islands, of which Grand 
Island is the largest, containing about seventeen thou- 
sand acres, Two miles above the Falls, the river is 
but two and a half miles wide. About three-fourths 
of a mile above, rapids commence, and the river de- 
scends in that distance, fifty-two feet on the Ameri- 
can, and fifty-seven on the Canada side. The river 



72 INKLINGS. 

at the commencement of the rapids, is about one mile 
in width, and at the Falls, about three fourths of a 
mile, including two small islands. The American 
side of the cataract, is in front of one standing upon 
the Canadian shore, and at right angels with the 
principal cataract, which is on the Canadian side, and 
has the appearance of a horse-shoe, the circular curve 
being up the stream. In the middle of the cataract, 
the river is supposed to be about twenty feet deep. 
The roaring noise produced by the fall of so great a 
body of Avater, is almost inconceivable, and is heard 
the distance of several miles. The earth trembles 
around, and a mist rises several hundred feet, which 
causes a beautiful rainbow when the sun shines. 

SCRIBO. 

After this had been read, and while the reader was 
moistening his lips and making another selection, 
several inquired, which one had visited the Falls ; 
and it was finally decided, that no one of the school 
had ever been there, and the facts of the description 
must have been taken from books ; one old lady re- 
marking, he must be a rare genius to know so much 
about them without ever seeing them, and she should 
not wonder if he made a historical philosopher 
one of these days. Silence again reigned through 
the room, and the reader commenced his third selec- 
tion. 



INKLINGS 73 



RIGHT OF PETITION. 



As it is common in these days of percussion, rail- 
road, and high-pressure systems, for every one who 
wishes, and has in his own estimation a sufficient 
quantity of brains, to appear as the champion in any 
cause that suits his own feelings best, which has for 
its object the recovery of lost rights or the banish- 
ment of some evil from society ; it has not only become 
proper, but highly popular^ for all, whenever they 
have occasion to speak or write for the edification of 
others, to enter the lists as the champions of lost 
rights, or the mortal foes of some destructive evil. 
Such is the tendency of the present state of affairs, 
that it is hazardous, even for a school-boy, to disre- 
gard the popular impulse, in the selection of a sub- 
ject for a composition. Indeed, this age seems to be 
so much an age of impulse and passion, that explo- 
sions and sad catastrophes might be common, and 
productive of great injury, were it not for the benev- 
olent and humane sujects, which, like the sewers of 
Rome that conducted away the excrescence and left 
the air of the city salubrious, are safe conductors of 
the over-charged passions of the populace, which 
might otherwise make the moral atmosphere impure 
and loathsome. It is not my purpose to speak of 
temperance, which has for its object the reform of 
drunkards, and which is advancing with percussion 
power ; nor of the high-pressure system of moral re- 



74 INKLINGS. 

form, which discards the idea of a young lady's pass- 
ing half her time in lounging and talking nonsense 
with a loafer, to add to his importance in his own es- 
timation ; nor of touch-me-not societies, whose mem- 
bers, by assuming, that all who do not subscribe to 
their creed are not gentlemen, assume that they are 
gentlemen, and sometimes, by the curled-up noses 
pouting lips, and awry faces which they exhibit in the 
presence of any thing not far-fetched and dear-bought, 
raise themselves to the dignity of a decent man's con- 
tempt. There are other subjects, of which less may 
be said, but which are not therefore of less impor- 
tance, for the importance of a subject can not always 
be determined by the amount of attention which it 
receives. One, which has, perhaps, been neglected, 
at least, of which too much can not be said, by those 
whose grand, political axiom is " freedom and equali- 
ty," is the right of the people to petition the govern- 
ment for a redress of grievances. This, it has been 
said, is the last right which the people have ever been 
willing to yield, and the last which tyrants have ev- 
er dared to demand. vindex. 



This composition was evidently the production of 
some one whose feelings had been soured, and selec- 
ted this way to let the fermentation escape, and in ad- 
dition to what might appear on the surface, to a stran- 
ger, it seemed to aim some arrows at particular indi- 
viduals ; but where from or where bound was all a 
mystery, excepting the writer and individuals impli- 



INKLINGS 75 

cated. But it was late, and Master Birch requested 
the reader to select one more, a little more humerous 
and close the exercises. Each one changed his posi- 
tion, or settled himself in a state of quiet, as he was, 
and the reader continued. 



MATRIMONY. 



That much discretion and sound judgment are 
necessary in selecting a subject for a composition, is 
obvious to every one ; and that it requires skill and 
experience in no small degree, to select one of suita- 
ble interest and importance, is equally obvious. Ful- 
ly impressed with this, I candidly considered the dif- 
ferent subjects which presented themselves to my 
mind, and after mature deliberation, selected from the 
multitude, three, which* in my opinion, might become 
amusing, interesting and instructive. These three 
are anti-slavery, celibacy, and matrimony. After 
much reading, reflection and advice from others, I 
came to the conclusion, that I should make matri- 
mony the subject of the present composition, and think 
I shall be able to show, not only that it adds to the 
sum of human happiness, but is absolutely necessary 
for convenience and comfort. That it is a fountain 
for quenching much of our thirst for pleasure, no one 
will deny ; but as to comfort and convenience, it will 
need perhaps some illustrations. I shall therefore pro- 



76 INKLINGS. 

ceed to state a part of my own experience upon the 
subject. As I was passing through the principal 
street of our village, the other day, I met friend Bid- 
dlecum, (I would say by way of parenthesis, that I 
seldom pass through the village without meeting some 
one I know, as I have a very extensive acquaintance.) 
and as I had not seen him in some time, he of course 
presented me his hand with, how do you do? Very 
well, thank you, said I, with botlyhands hold of my 
waist-band, feeling as I should judge a fish would, in 
a tub of soap-suds. Says he, are you not going to 
shake hands with me ? When this second question 
came, I felt as though, to say the least, my panta- 
loons would drop from me, if I let go of them, and I 
frankly confessed, that I had stumbled over the broom, 
for the want of a wife to take care of it, and in addi- 
tion to tearing a hole in my elbow, and bursting half 
the buttons from my pantaloons, I received bruises 
from which I have not, to this day, recovered. This 
is but one instance, of a thousand, almost every-day 
occurrences, in a bachelor's life, and the conclusive 
part of the argument in favor of matrimony, is yet 
untold. It was my hard lot to go as I then was, till 
I found a lady, who, as an act of kindness, nicely 
fixed my torn apparel. single. 



This concluded the reading exercise, and the re- 
mainder of the afternoon was devoted to remarks from 
spectators, among whom the Squire and Deacon 



INKLINGS. 77 

were conspicuous. The former, with his character- 
istic composure, expressed his gratification, and en- 
couraged the school to perseverance in the pursuit of 
knowledge, by naming Washington and other illus- 
trious individuals, who had enjoyed in early life no 
better advantages for education, than those now with- 
in their reach ; and concluded, by reminding them, 
that Excelsior, the motto of the State, contemplated 
no stationary point, but a continual, onward and up- 
ward advancement. The Deacon reminded them of 
their moral obligations, and several others arose, sim- 
ply to express their gratification with the advance- 
ment and appearance of the school, and perhaps they 
ought to have added their acknowledgments for in- 
formation. A committee then proceeded to distribute 
the various prizes which were awarded by Master 
'Birch, consisting of books and diplomas, of which 
William Johnson and John Vernon were recipients, 
in the male, and Grace Garland and Julia Brown, in 
the female department. There were others perhaps 
equally deserving, but the selection must fall some- 
where, and the great popularity of those who had 
been fortunate in receiving the prizes, caused general 
satisfaction among the members of the school. Thus 
closed the term of school, an important era in the his- 
tory of many of the juveniles, and one to which the 
mind will turn in after years with a distinct recollec- 
tion of its various little incidents, when recent occur- 
rences of more importance have escaped the memory : 
those early events which seem to have a controlling 



78 INKLINGS. 

influence in moulding the plastic powers of the man, 
make so deep an impression, that they seem to be- 
come a part of his very being, and are retained in 
memory and enjoyed in fancy, even in his second 
childhood. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



When twilight throws its softening spell 
On rock and river, hill and dell, — 
When through the wide domain of thought. 
Will memory's visions flit untaught, — 
May I not hope, a thought will stray 
To one, who then is far away ? 
That thought will find a welcome true, 
In fancy's golden-tinted view 
Of time, now passed beyond control, 
Which left its image on the soul. 
Though distant seas between us roll, 
And we are, far as pole from pole, 
Dissevered, while in memory gleams 
One ray of those past, joyous beams, 
Which gilded even youthful dreams, 
Hope still will whisper visions bright, 
Which yet may dawn upon the sight. 



80 INKLINGS. 

The time of vacation was employed in various 
ways by the juveniles, as much in accordance with 
their own inclinations, as parental advice and re- 
straint would permit. To some it brought its rides, 
visits and pleasures ; to some it was a gift with which 
they knew not what to do ; and there were others, 
whose time, the warp of life, was interwoven with 
various cares and duties. Among this latter class 
was William Johnson, for his parents were frugal and 
industrious, living in comfortable independence upon 
their own labor, and considering it a duty which they 
owed to their children, of whom William was the 
eldest, to instruct them in the ways of sober indus- 
try. Their little cottage was provided with many 
useful books to which they turned with pleasure, as 
a relief and relaxation from their various labors ; and 
evenings and rainy days were hailed with delight, 
for the opportunity which they brought of renewing 
their acquaintance with the silent and disinterested 
counselors of their well-stored, little book-case. The 
personal appearance of the last named individual, 
was frank, manly and confiding, with intelligence 
sufficient to understand his rights, and nerve enough 
to protect them. Whether he was a descendant of 
the ancient Saxons or Normans, is not known ; for a 
mixture of modern English and German, would throw 
an uncertain light on that subject, and his ancestry, 
neglecting to hand down certificates of his lineage, 
there was a large blank which it is impossible to fill, 
between him and his great progenitor Adam. His 



INKLINGS. 81 

vacations were not always employed exclusively at 
home, for the paternal acres were too few to furnish 
regular employment for them all, and it was his de- 
light in autumn, to assist the neighbors in gathering 
their winter supply, and to add to his own little com- 
forts at home. On one occasion, he was invited by 
neighbor Garland to assist in gathering his apples, of 
which he had a great variety, selected with care from 
various parts of the country around him. Neighbor 
Garland was very domestic in his habits, and man- 
aged to pass along through life with very little notori- 
ety, preferring to improve his orchard or make a fish 
pond on his own premises, to participating in politi- 
cal or religious discussions, or projecting various im- 
provements for the adoption of his neighbors ; and 
consequently was rarely mentioned, except now and 
then, as a prosperous, happy farmer, worthy of gen- 
eral imitation. The invitation was accepted by Will- 
iam with pleasure, for various reasons. He would 
have an opportunity of doing a kindness for a neigh- 
bor, and at the same time receiving its reward from 
the bending branches of the trees : and then, besides 
all this, he would have the pleasure of a more inti- 
mate acquaintance with Grace. His acquaintance 
previous to this time, had not been so intimate, dear 
reader, as you may possibly imagine. It is true, they 
had seen each other daily at school, and often com- 
plimented each other in their own way, and occa- 
sionally, as she met his ardent gaze, a glow would 
pass over her features ; and after all this, there was 



82 INKLINGS. 

no particular, private, confidential understanding be- 
tween them. But to return to the fruit gathering. 
To him was assigned the important duty of shaking 
the apples from the trees, which could not easily be 
obtained in a better way, and then assisting in pick- 
ing them up and pouring them into the wagon-box. 
It was curious to see how few of the falling apples 
would hit his school-mate, while her father's beaver 
was often knocked into a shapeless mass, which 
caused some merry remarks from the trio. Now and 
then a lusty apple, large enough to make two dump- 
lings, would fall into the lap of Grace, and as she 
looked up to the place whence they came, she was 
relieved of all fear of any designed injury. But 
suddenly the limb on which he was standing, yielded 
to its unaccustomed burden, and breaking, tumbled 
its occupant without ceremony to the ground. While 
Grace was unable to move or speak, from the sudden 
fright, her father removed the helpless youth to the 
house, and sent immediately for the doctor, a person 
who has been entirely forgotten until the present, 
when his services are needed, which can only be ac- 
counted for, by reason of his being associated with 
sickness and pain. He was a benevolent man, who, 
without making any great, scientific display, per- 
formed the duty of relieving the sufferings of others, 
to the extent of his ability. He soon arrived, with 
lancet, bandage and pill, and commenced an exami- 
nation of his patient. He pronounced the shoulder 
dislocated, the collar bone fractured, and thought 



INKLINGS. 83 

some internal injury had been caused by the sudden 
shock ; and after administering all the consolation to 
be derived from twisting dislocated joints to their pla- 
ces, and bandaging splintered bones, directed that 
he should remain where he was, for a few days, un- 
til something more could be ascertained with regard 
to his condition. The first effect of the accident 
upon Grace, had not been observed, and she soon 
recovered her composure, and engaged in those little 
offices of attention and kindness, so congenial to her 
feelings, that, were it not for the pain of the sufferer, 
they would have been a source of real pleasure to her 
benevolent heart. She watched by his side, present- 
ed the cup of water to his thirsty lips, prepared and 
administered the doctor's prescriptions, and during 
the intervals of pain, read some amusing story, to 
relieve his mind from that gloom which settles 
around the couch of sickness. The gratitude writ- 
ten upon his countenance and beaming from his eye, 
told in silence, but eloquently, how well her efforts 
were appreciated. One afternoon they had a call 
from Julia, whose intimacy there made such an event 
of frequent occurrence. She came in high spirits, for 
she had met John Vernon on the road, who had been 
telling her, Charles Chatterbox like, some remarka- 
ble account from a book of travels, about people who 
grew to the height of several inches, fought insects 
with swords, and lived in houses which common 
men could carry under their arms. She was a com- 
plete echo, a perfect mirror, in which any one could 



84 INKLINGS. 

see himself delineated with accuracy ; and it was 
without doubt delightful to John, to observe the re- 
flection, while he was proceeding with his amusing 
narrative. The weary, lingering hours of the sick 
room, usually so painful to the young, by reason of 
the restraint which they impose, glided quietly along 
in the present instance, and the feeling of gratitude 
was hastening into one of a more pathetic nature, 
when he was pronounced by the doctor, out of dan- 
ger and convalescent ; a conclusion derived from an 
examination of his physical condition, and without 
reference to the state of his feelings towards any one, 
as the kind doctor had a wonderful faculty of seeing 
very dimly, every thing not connected with his pro- 
fessional observations. Whether the invalid would 
have been willing to remain as such, for a longer 
time, is not known ; but it is known he left with re- 
gret, and the kindest feelings towards her, who had 
beguiled many a weary hour, shared the pains of his 
sickness, and by her soothing accents, softened the 
rigor of his confinement. O, who can tell the bound- 
less influence of that sympathy which twines itself 
around those feelings, rendered doubly susceptible by 
suffering and pain ! 

There are others who must not be forgotten in this 
humble narrative. Master Birch had been invited by 
a relative to make them a visit, and a few days after 
closing school, on a fine autumnal morning he might 
have been seen at the village inn, with carpet-bag in 
hand, prepared to step into the stage which passed 



INKLINGS. 85 

near the place of his destination. The landlord, a 
name that, if it be a misnomer, will be readily under- 
stood, in a half-bantering way offered to treat, which 
was declined with thanks for his generosity ; and 
several of the villagers there, wished him a pleasant 
ride, as the knight of the whip opened the door and 
he seated himself inside, gave a parting nod and 
good-by to all, and moved away from the scene of 
his cares and labors. He had not rode far, before his 
attention was directed to his traveling companions. 
By his side was an old gentleman, who, observing 
the turn of his thoughts, offered his snuff-box, re- 
marked it was a fine day, he liked travel, there was 
so much to be seen, turned his attention to various 
items of interest they were passing, launched off into 
the latest news from Europe and its probable effect 
*upon the destiny of the world, and settled down into 
a quiet re very, which terminated in a state approach- 
ing as near to slumber as the motion of the coach 
would permit. The seat in front of the ex-school- 
master, was occupied by a blooming lass, whose ap- 
pearance indicated the age of eighteen ; and the little 
attentions shown her at the various places on the 
road, those attentions which are the result of refined 
feelings and unobtrusive kindness of heart, paved the 
way to an acquaintance, which, under auspicious cir- 
cumstances, might have terminated in friendly inti- 
macy, and which served to relieve the weariness of 
that way, into which circumstances had thrown them, 
to be companions for a day in the journey of life. As 
5 



86 * INKLINGS. 

the sun declined in the west, reminding one of the 
flight of time, and another of accustomed table com- 
forts, the driver halted and said, the gentleman from 
Greenville would find the place of his destination in 
a neighborhood about one mile to the south of him, 
where he soon arrived and was greeted with a hearty 
welcome. He soon found himself domesticated with 
his friends in their rural retreat, and so much at home 
among them, that his visit was prolonged to several 
weeks. Here, free from that restraint which school 
imposes upon the teacher, no less than the pupil, he 
recruited his jaded spirits by roaming the fields and 
woods with gun upon his shoulder, though it must be 
confessed the game suffered very little in that vicini- 
ty ; writing letters to various acquaintances, reading 
the news of the day, or assisting in the transaction 
of such business as required that knowledge which 
he was supposed to possess. He became an interest- 
ing subject in the quiet, little neighborhood, and won 
its confidence to such an extent, that an aged farmer 
solicited him to make a journey westward, for the 
purpose of transacting business ; remarking that he 
was not sufficiently acquainted with the law, and 
besides, was too old to endure the fatigue of travel. 
An only brother, a bachelor, had recently died in 
Missouri, and left some property which belonged to 
him, of course, as he was the only relative, and he 
would gladly intrust the business to the teacher, if 
he could be persuaded to undertake it. The prelim- 
inaries were soon settled ; and provided with the ne~ 



INKLINGS. 87 

cessary papers and funds, the quondam teacher start- 
ed on his expedition. He returned within a few 
weeks to the house of his relative, and reported to his 
client the success of his enterprise. The old gentle- 
man was pleased with his promptness and accuracy, 
and invited him to call and share his hospitality, an 
invitation which he did not feel inclined to reject. 
He found him surrounded with substantial comforts, 
his amiable consort giving them a double relish ; and 
a blooming daughter, with all the graces of a sylvan 
nymph, the lass of the stage-coach, reminding him 
that it required but one more to make the number 
even. He was soon on terms of intimacy with the 
family ; his intimacy ended in friendship, friendship 
in love, and love in matrimony ; you must not under- 
stand by this, however, that matrimony was the ter- 
mination of love, or that ail this took place within 
the time taken in telling it ; this is only a synopsis. 
This has changed the whole course of Master Birch's 
life, made him a quiet farmer, and left very little to 
say about him. 

The vacancy in the school at Greenville, caused 
by his unceremonious resignation, was filled by one 
who did not walk precisely in the footsteps of his 
illustrious predecessor. He adopted what is some- 
times called the sugar-stick government ; and by tell- 
ing the juveniles, that he would assist them in plant- 
ing their feet securely on the first round of a ladder, 
by which they could ascend to a sublime height, and 
see stars, and garters, and titles of nobility ; by tick- 



88 INKLINGS. 

ets which he distributed in abundance, embellished 
with boys and girls, carts and oxen, fish poles and 
meeting-house steeples, bee-hives, and various imple- 
ments of husbandry ; and by his comical distortions 
of physiognomy upon certain occasions, which al- 
most frightened the juveniles into the belief that un- 
less they were very careful, he would be metamor- 
phosed some day, and disappear in the woods among 
the coons and foxes, — he succeeded in keeping them 
in leading strings ; and their mothers smiled while 
listening to their tales of future greatness, smiled and 
hoped they might be true. Master White, superior 
to his predecessor, not in learning, integrity, or the 
power to communicate ideas, but in those little dis- 
simulations so pleasing to the vanity of many, even 
Avhen they know their falsity, became a kind of uni- 
versal favorite among the children and parents of 
Greenville ; and proud of his high destiny, he wore 
the wreath of praise with that perfect satisfaction 
which placed the limits of his ambition within the 
sphere in which he revolved. Months passed away, 
and lengthened into years, and he remained a 
pedagogue, so confirmed in his business by habit, 
that change would have been ruin to him. High 
honors in the class, or new books and advancement 
to a class above them, were the motives which not 
only stimulated many of the scholars to persever- 
ance in the attainment of knowledge, but excited 
the spirit of rivalry, which sometimes caused those 
petty animosities that, on a more extensive scale, 



INKLINGS. §9 

might have endangered the peace of nations. These 
were generally soon forgotten, and of course, forgiv- 
en, and with the exception of these little ebullitions, 
which themselves soon extinguished the fire they had 
kindled, the world in miniature moved onward with 
gay streamers fluttering in the breeze that wafted 
them down the stream of time. There were a few 
among them, whom no emulation could affect, and 
no selfish principle could for a moment sever the silk- 
en cord which bound them in a league of perpetual 
amity. Among this few, were William and Grace. 
Circumstances had placed them in a situation favor- 
able for becoming intimate friends, and the general 
character and conduct of each, had favored the cir- 
cumstances ; and more than these, there was a simi- 
larity in taste and sentiment, and an undefinable pre- 
dilection, depending upon a thousand things in ap- 
pearance, tone and manner, which it is impossible to 
describe. The childish feeling of interest, which 
had been early manifested, grew with their growth 
and strengthened with their strength, until they ac- 
knowledged to themselves, in the secret communion 
of their own thoughts, that their happiness was one 
and indivisible. Grace was his superior in exter- 
nal advantages, and besides, they were too young 
to think of perfecting that union* which existed in 
their hearts ; and William, in view of these circum- 
stances, had long meditated upon some plan to dare 
fortune for her favors. At the age of eighteen, he 
finally resolved to leave the place, as there was no 



90 INKLINGS. 

inducement sufficient for one of his ambition to re- 
main ; and yet it was difficult for him to decide upon 
a plan, and whenever reflecting upon one, the past 
would glide into his musings, and cause him to feel 
a pang of regret, that he must leave a place where 
even field, and brook, and tree, were hallowed by 
association with all the heart holds dear, — home, 
friends, the cherished idol of his heart. One pleas- 
ant morning in the month of May, with a high rec- 
ommendation from several of his neighbors in his 
pocket, a small outfit for his journey, and the gentle 
good-by yet warm on his lips, he left his T paternal 
cottage, and proceeded on his way in pursuit of that 
fortune, who has so often eluded the grasp of her 
devoted followers. 



CHAPTER IX. 



Sun's farewell beams will gild the west. 

Long after its decline ; 
The gentle brook with music blest. 

Seems never to repine. 

Those beams — reflections from the sun — 
Remind us whence they came ; 

That gentle brook its course doth run, 
To mingle with the main. 

The bird above the sea's blue wave, 

Flies on with tireless wing, 
Nor stoops below its wing to lave, 

Nor tries its note to sing. 

Hope speeds its way, joy nerves its wiDg, 
For green isle far from sight ; 



92 INKLINGS. 

May it meet no unpleasant thing, 
Its prospects fair, to blight ! 

That bird and brook, those sunset beams, 

May yet perhaps remind 
Of one, in memory's fitful gleams, 

Who lingers far behind. 



This may be an index to the feelings and senti- 
ments of one, within whose bosom slumbered those 
ardent affections which had been nurtured through 
the sunny days of childhood, and which, awakened 
by a separation, manifested a strength hitherto un- 
known to her who had half-unconsciously cherished 
their unfolding powers. Fortune might frown upon 
him, disease might overtake him, or what would be 
even more to be lamented, he might be prosperous 
and forget his early attachments and preferences — 
might be placed in circumstances where beauty, splen- 
dor, and wealth, would weave a charm irresistible to 
one unacquainted with the seductive fascinations of 
the world. These fears and anxieties proved the 
strength of that attachment which could not endure 
the thought of disappointment or a rival ; and the 
past, the glorious past, would return a welcome guest 
to cheer the lingering hours ; and then hope, bright 
and beautiful as the rainbow which follows a revi- 
ving summer shower, would throw its halo around 
her future pathway; and various little cares and du- 



INKLINGS, 93 

ties would for a time absorb her attention, and to 
friends and neighbors she seemed the same she al- 
ways had been, with, perhaps, a shade of deeper 
thought upon her brow, which was attributed to her 
advancing years. Her kind parents gave suitable 
attention to her education, and teachers were not 
wanting, who might add accomplishments to those 
substantial acquirements which are the foundation of 
all intellectual greatness. The book of nature was 
open to her view, and she was pleased in reading the 
truths written on hills and fields, by the finger of 
Goodness. Days, weeks, and months passed by, with- 
out any tidings from the absent one. The inquiries 
at the post-office were answered by that sickening 
negative which made Hope droop and fold her wings, 
His parents had the utmost confidence in the correct- 
ness of his principles, and it was impossible that he 
could have forgotten them ; and then the questions 
would arise, why this ominous silence ? Has sick- 
ness overtaken him, or has he been the dupe of some 
designing knave, who has robbed him of the price- 
less jewel, reputation, and left him a wanderer, to 
despise the heartless insincerity of the world ? These 
and a thousand other conjectures, were entertained, 
examined and dismissed, with the confident assurance 
that time would solve the mystery. At last, the long- 
expected explanation came. One Saturday evening, 
the post-master announced a letter from New York, 
for Mr. Johnson, who hastened homeward, not doubt- 
ing that it brought intelligence from his absent son, 



94 INKLING*. 

although the superscription was a hand- writing which 
he did not recognize. The anxiety of the family to 
hear the contents of the letter, can be imagined, more 
easily than described. He broke the seal, turned to 
the last page, saw the signature of his son, and pro- 
ceeded to read to the eager group of listeners around 
him. Presuming that the Johnson family will have 
no objections, we transfer a copy to these pages. 



New York, December, . 

Dear Parents : — 

You have doubtless been ex- 
pecting to hear from me for a long time, and have, 
perhaps, been inclined to censure me for an apparent 
neglect towards those, who, under existing circum- 
stances, usually feel an anxiety that would make neg- 
ligence criminal, not in the eye of law, but a crime 
against those common feelings of humanity, which 
all are supposed to possess. Your uniform kindness 
and affection must make you lenient judges of my 
culpability, and a brief account of my absence will 
place me, not only beyond reproach, but above sus- 
picion, unless that confidence which you have always 
manifested towards me, has been shaken by some ad- 
verse wind during my long absence from home. 
Long, indeed, it seems to me, although variety, which 
is called the spice of life, has presented some of its 
endless changes to gratify a curiosity, which in a 
short time would gladly exchange its gratification for 
the pleasures of home. 



INKLINGS. 95 

The remembrance of the morning of my departure, 
is as fresh in memory as though it were yesterday, 
and the bright hopes and anticipations, " made of such 
stuff as dreams are," performed an important office 
in maintaining a state of equilibrium in the feelings, 
which might otherwise have fallen into despondency 
from oppressive doubts and regrets. The trip to Al- 
bany was pleasant, the passengers on the packet 
without any ceremony, falling into conversation upon 
various subjects of general interest, and sometimes 
amusing the way with pleasant anecdotes of individ- 
uals or places, which, if they are not now immortal, 
are in a fair way to become so. The passage down 
the river, presents some of the most beautiful and 
sublime scenery. The Catskill with their mountain 
house, which appears like a snow-flake in the dis- 
tance ; the Highlands laving their giant sides in the 
river, and looking down with scorn upon puny men 
with their toy steamboats floating around their feet ; 
West Point, rocky, sterile, inaccessible, with its mili- 
tary associations ; and the Palisades, which perhaps 
might rival the Giant's Causeway, and other similar 
wonders of the old world, all unite in giving a pecu- 
liar interest to the scenery, which must be seen, to be 
fully appreciated. 

New York is full of curiosities to one fresh from 
the country, like myself upon my first arrival; but 
one gets so accustomed to it in a little while, as to pay 
little attention to anything, except his own busi- 
ness. After being here a few days in comfortable 



96 INKLINGS, 

quarters, while wandering among the shipping in 
East river, I was hailed by the captain of the ship 
on which I happened to be standing, who wished me 
to go below for a little private conversation. This 
was complied with, though not without some misgiv- 
ings as to his object and intentions. He surveyed me 
with the eye of one accustomed to read man's character 
from appearances, and seemed to know as much of 
me from a single glance, as I did of myself, except- 
ing some unimportant items of names and dates. He 
says, "you are from the country, with a good educa- 
tion, habits of industry, and correct moral principles." 
How he came by his information was a mystery ; 
perhaps, thinks I to myself, he has been to my stop- 
ping place and learned something, which he intends 
to enlarge upon for his own benefit. I gazed into his 
face, but could read nothing. "Now," says he, "I am 
a regular business man, not accustomed to palaver 
and all that sort of thing. I command this craft, 
and am bound for the West Indies. Would you like 
to go along with me ? Think the matter over, and 
give me a call to-morrow at ten o'clock ; next day I 
leave port." Of course the matter was thought over, 
and dreamed over, and thought over again, and the 
hour of ten found me in presence of the captain. He 
says ; " to relieve your^ mind of all anxiety concern- 
ing my expectations, I will inform you, that you will 
be subject to no orders relative to managing the ship, 
will be expected, of course, not to stand in the way, 
but assist a little, occasionally, after learning the Ian- 



INKLINGS. 97 

guage and operations aboard ship, and will be expec- 
ted to report to me anything within your knowledge, 
which may, in your opinion, affect my own interest, 
or that of the ship and cargo. Your business will be 
to take my orders to the men, write for me, about 
which you will receive all necessary instructions, and 
be with me personally, much of the time. If this 
suits you, I will give you one hundred dollars for the 
trip, a sufficient amount now, to make preparations 
for your personal comfort on the voyage, and for pro- 
curing interesting and useful books, with which you 
will have full liberty to entertain yourself during the 
leisure hours. You will return this afternoon pre- 
pared for the voyage, and be ready to sail in the morn- 
ing." 

The proposals were accepted, and the remainder 
of the day passed rapidly in preparing for the voyage. 
We passed the Narrows the next day, and for the 
first time in my life, I was rocked by the waves of 
the wide Atlantic. For two or three days, sea-sick- 
ness prevented my contemplations from extending 
far beyond myself, and several days passed, before 
the nautical phrases of the seamen sounded much 
like intelligible language. Observation soon taught 
me to associate ideas with the new dialect, and the 
ship gradually assumed the appearance of an old ac- 
quaintance. The captain was pleased with my im- 
provement, and assisted me in various ways in be- 
coming- familiar with my duties ; often leaving me in 
perplexity about my position, varying from cabin-boy 



98 INKLINGS. 

to common sailor, clerk, lieutenant, and general dep- 
uty. One thing was certain, he placed great confi- 
dence in me, and another thing equally true and 
pleasant, was, that notwithstanding my multifarious 
duties, a large amount of time was left for reading 
and contemplation. To me it was delightful to hear 
the sea-god blow his trumpet, and see the dashing 
waves, like wheeling squadrons, answer to the blast. 
The grandeur and sublimity of the scene would over- 
power all thoughts of personal safety. We visited 
several of the islands, remaining in different ports 
several weeks. The fiist thing which arrested my 
attention as a peculiarity, was the black population 
which is much more numerous than the white. There 
are many interesting peculiarities of climate, produc- 
tion, law and custom, of the inhabitants, with which 
I am not very familiar, and besides, have not a place 
to devote to them, for the last page of my sheet ad- 
monishes me to use my ink with economy. 

We returned to New- York with such success and 
mutual satisfaction, that the captain made proposals 
to me for repeating the trip, offering greater induce- 
ments than for the first voyage. Before leaving New- 
York the second time, a long letter was written you, 
requesting an answer directed here three months 
from date. You probably never received the letter, 
at any rate, the reply has never come to me. The 
captain and myself became such firm friends, that 
on my second return, after declining a life longer on 
the fickle waves, he introduced me to a clerkship 



INKLINGS. 99 

here, where I receive a good salary, and hope, by 
strict attention to business, to keep the post at my 
disposal. 1 would like to hear from you as soon as 
you can give me all the news, after receiving this. 
Give my best respects to all inquiring friends. Some 
of my schoolmates are remembered with pleasure, 
and you will of course give them my love, and in- 
form me about them. Dear Parents, Brothers and 
Sisters, one and all, good-by. 

From your affectionate 

WILLIAM. 



The short silence of busy thought which followed 
the reading of this letter, was interrupted by an ani- 
mated conversation that continued until the extin- 
guished lights in the neighborhood reminded them of 
the usual hour of repose. The next morning, as the 
sound of the Sabbath bell was borne along by the 
passing breeze, swelling to melodious fullness, and 
then, in its dying cadence, sighing a requiem over the 
departed year, a thought of the absent one, who had 
often listened to its music, came mingling with the 
sound ; and fancy wove her golden tissue which 
made the earth seem more beautiful than spring with 
all its enchantment, while that sound was converted 
by anxiety into the knell of hope. It was impossi- 
ble to restrain the intense interest of the younger 
members of the Johnson family from breaking out 
spontaneously, even in Sunday School, and communi- 



100 INKLINGS. 

eating various information to their young compan- 
ions, upon the favorite subject of the late news from 
the commercial emporium. Winged messengers 
seemed to bear the news through the whole of that 
little community, and the various versions of the sto- 
ry, embellished by the varying fancy of individuals, 
made the whole affair assume forms which must have 
been bewildering to any one imagination. Here, 
shipwreck and dire disaster were mingled with the 
account ; there, a princely fortune and the unbound- 
ed confidence of men possessing boundless wealth. 
One boy in the village was heard to say, that he. 
William Johnson, had been all over the world, and 
in the course of his travels had visited a country of 
cannibals ; he and the captain of the ship had per- 
suaded the king of the country and his court to drink 
largely of wine, with which drugs had been mingled, 
and during their sleepy intoxication had managed to 
take from the palace and carry to the ship several 
cart-loads of gold and dimonds ; and since their re- 
turn to New- York, where they were received with 
all the honors bestowed upon royalty, they had done 
nothing but eat oranges and raisins, drink wine, and 
smoke cigars, with a few of the most distinguished 
men of the place. Those who wished correct infor- 
mation, called of course where it could be obtained ; 
and it was a pleasure to the parents to read the letter 
to neighbors and old acquaintances, and converse 
about their absent son. Several of his school-mates 
called, expressed their interest in the news, and wish- 



INKLINGS. 101 

ed their compliments sent to him. Grace was absent 
attending school, but returned within a few days to 
pass the holidays. The merry Christmas with which 
Mrs. Johnson greeted her on her arrival, caused a 
contest between the white and red rose for the pos- 
session of features radiant with pleasure ; and the 
sparkling brilliancy of her eyes, proved, that to one 
at least, she must be a diamond of the first water. 
During her visit, which was no unusual thing there, 
she read the letter, inspected the writing, which at 
first caused a passing doubt as to its genuineness, and 
then in all its improvement, detected a trace of that 
hand with which she had been familiar ; conversed 
about him with an interest which proved her sincerity 
and confidence, and frankly confessed to Mrs. John- 
son, the pleasure with which his return would be 
hailed, who had always seemed to her like a broth- 
er. The mystery about his fortune since leaving 
home, was all connected with Captain Underhill, 
who subsequently acknowledged to William the close 
resemblance between him and a nephew from " the 
land of steady habits," who had died while on a voy- 
age with him, a few month's previous to his introduc- 
tion to the reader. 



CHAPTER X. 



Forgive, forgive the truant Muse, 
The thoughts she may not tell ; 

For she perverse, does now refuse 
To sing the lovely belle. 

Yet beauty's praise has oft been sung, 
With eyes of heavenly blue, 

And coral lips that raptures wrung, 
From constant hearts and true. 

But beauty fades, the coral lip 

Must wither like the rose ; 

And love's young dream the nectar sip, 
Long ere the day may close. 

Be mine the task, a boon to ask, 

A priceless boon to crave ; 
In memory's sunny spot to bask, 

In its fresh fountain lave. 



INKLINGS. 103 

The wealth and magnificence displayed in the 
higher circles of city life, and which necessarily ccme 
within the observation of those who revolve in hum- 
bler spheres, have often dazzled and inflamed weak 
eyes, unaccustomed to the brilliancy. The splendor 
and attractions which money can bestow, when ap- 
plied with taste and skill, have been known to oblit- 
erate the fixed principles taught in early life by the 
fireside of republican descendants, who lived with- 
out ostentation, contented with the comforts of life, 
and more interested in the welfare of their country 
and its free institutions, than in the glittering tinsel 
of any personal display. William Johnson was not 
insensible to all the attractions around him, for he 
possessed a deeply susceptible nature, but he viewed 
them with a philosophic eye : quickly practiced in the 
* great school of the world. His business relieved him 
from many temptations, and if he wished for wealth, 
amid the evidences of luxury which surrounded him 
on all sides, that wish was attended with a desire to 
improve his mind, assist friends, and relieve that dis- 
tress which pines away a miserable existence. His 
employer had, in compliance with his request, intro- 
duced him to a few with whom he might associate 
without any fear of contaminating his principles or 
compromising his honor, and his recreations were con- 
fined to an occasional ramble about town, or an ex- 
cursion of a few miles from the city, for fresh air and 
exercise, in which these acquaintances soon became 
companions. This relaxation from the care and la- 



104 INKLINGS, 

bor of business, was considered absolutely necessary 
for the preservation of health. In his leisure hours 
he often thought of his home and the companions of 
his youth, and with pleasure anticipated the time 
when he might return, freighted with all his wishes. 
In the interim his anxiety was relieved by letters from 
home, which were faithful chronicles of events at 
Greenville, containing, among other things, a full ac- 
count of his quondam friend and boon companion, 
John Vernon. The latter had told Julia Brown, soon 
after William's departure, that he knew very well the 
cause of his leaving, although it had never been told 
him in words. He would return some day and be in- 
troduced to Grace, just the same as if he had never 
seen her; and what would follow that introduction, 
any one could guess. He was going to see the world 
too, but then he was not going such a round about 
way ; he should act as agent for some insurance com- 
pany, or get into some such business, travel a few 
hundred miles in that part of the State, and return 
home. He considered the world very much like a 
large kettle full of all kinds of vegetables, boiled to- 
gether, and seasoned indiscriminately with butter, 
salt, pepper, nutmeg, vinegar and molasses ; the fla- 
vor of one might be spoiled by its contact with 
another, and the seasoning proper for one, might give 
the other a disrelish unpalatable ; and after being all 
stewed together, one could scarcely be distinguished 
from the other. If this proved to be true, he should 
soon be satisfied with travel, for he considered him- 



INKLINGS. 105 

self as good as pumpkin pie, any way: and did not 
wish that spoiled by any beet and vinegar compounds. 
Julia laughed, because it was impossible to do other- 
wise, notwithstanding his assumed seriousness, and 
frequently thought of his comparison during his first 
tour of six weeks' absence from home. 

There had been few changes at Greenville. The 
changing seasons brought few changes to its inhabi- 
tants. The sun rose and set, sunshine followed 
storm, spring succeeded winter, the one seemed to be 
the prelude to the other. Time passed gently by 
them, and scarcely left a vestige of his footsteps ; and 
yet there had been a few changes, in this peaceful, 
quiet, little community. Some had gone to the far 
west, some had embarked in business in other places, 
and the plain, marble slab in the church-yard, told 
the final resting place of a few from their earthly 
labors. The inclosure, bordering upon a natural 
grove, where the little birds sung their lays of hope, 
and the wild rose shed its fragrance, was a lovely 
spot for a quiet ramble, where the contemplations al- 
most instinctively had less of earth than heaven in 
them, and where every thing around would enlist the 
tender feelings in favor of the silent tenants of the 
place, although beyond the hopes and fears which 
sway the bosom of mortals left behind them. 

Green be the grass above their head ; 
May wild-flowers bloom around their bed, 
And untaught songsters of the grove } 



106 INKLINGS. 

While through green bowers they gayly rove, 

Stop near, and oft a requiem sing, 

While for a loftier flight, they plume the wing ! 

The trees, brooks, hills and fields remained the 
same, and even the buildings, fences and things of 
that kind, remained with very little alteration ; and 
a few familiar faces had remained there so long, that 
they seemed to form a part of the landscape. The 
Deacon continued to be a deacon, and appeared the 
same to young men, that he had been when they 
were little school-boys. The Squire seemed to have 
expanded a little with his intellectual growth, and 
appeared more interesting, for this intermixture of the 
ancient and modern man. The worthy Parson had 
never been accustomed to hurl thunder-bolts at his 
peaceful, little flock ; and as years rolled away, the 
children were christened, the young people married, 
and the bereaved comforted with that genuine Chris- 
tian sympathy which springs from a benevolent 
heart, he had become, not only an index to point them 
to the narrow way, but a neighbor and friend. The 
brothers, sisters, cousins, nephews and nieces of those 
who had formerly received the rudiments from Master 
Birch, now formed the little community of hopefuls, 
who would, at some future day, wield the destiny of 
Greenville. The Boniface of the inn, seemed like 
old wine, to improve with age. He had certainly 
improved his fund of anecdotes and general informa- 
tion, his improvement being similar to certain house- 



LNKLINGS. 107 

hold articles coming in contact with chalk and buck- 
skin. The inn continued to be a notable place for 
public days and performances, the half-tragic serious- 
ness and anxiety of the aforesaid individual to please 
his guests, and his urbanity to his neighbors, secured 
for him a reputation which extended as far as some 
of the neighboring villages. Fate might cut the web 
which fancy weaves of the future with such glowing 
colors, but could not deprive them of the enjoyment 
of its gaudy hues, beautiful in ruins. The little com- 
munity lived in a world of its own, free from most of 
the vices which luxury engenders, and free from those 
artificial wants which it creates. There are excep- 
tions to all general rules, and no general description 
can particularize every individual of a community ; 
but exceptions are said to confirm a general rule. 
Were it not inconsistent with the plan of the work, a 
more particular description of various individuals 
might be given, with their manners, modes of life and 
peculiarities ; but this must be passed, to give place 
to the finale of this hasty sketch. 

The Johnson family were frequently conversing 
about their absent member in New York, wondering 
what he was doing at the time they were talking 
about him, how much he had changed in appearance 
since leaving, when they should get the next letter 
from him, and when he would come home to see them 
once more. The younger members of the family had 
grown so much in his absence, that he might not 
know them ; and it was possible that William would 



108 iNKLrxas. 

be so metamorphosed by age and city life, that he 
could not be recognized by his own relations. These 
things, and others of similar character, had been 
thoroughly discussed a thousand times, without los- 
ing any of their interest. After an absence of seven 
years, they received the long expected epistle, an- 
nouncing his intention of returning home. The let- 
ter was very interesting to the family, but was of that 
private nature w r hich w r ould give it little interest to 
the general reader, excepting the following, closing 
lines, which may be worth the place they fill. 

' ; Tell the neighbors and friends who live around home, 
That while a lone pilgrim the wide world I roam, 
In fancy's bright regions my thoughts love to stray, 
To worlds of my own, when the world was all gay ; 
When the fresh spring-time of life knew no sorrow, 
"Was without a lingering thought of to-morrow, 
And saw but the rose with its beauties revealed, 
Bat never the thorn which beneath was concealed.' ' 

I really believe the boy is homesick ! was Mrs. 
Johnson's first exclamation after reading it. Two or 
three bright-eyed little girls said, they would try to 
drive that away from him ; and their father remarked 
that his son's return was a source of real pleasure to 
him, and he hoped they would all try to make it 
agreeable, without overwhelming him w T ith compli- 
ments and caresses on his arrival which, his long ab- 



INKLINGS. 109 

sence and city habits, as well as their own appear- 
ance, that would without doubt seem rustic to him at 
first, might prove embarrassing to all. Time flies 
swiftly when the heart is warm with gladness, and 
the intervening space is noted along the way, as the 
distance from the goal of its wishes. Grace was no 
disinterested listener to the news which vibrated the 
tongue and heart of the chattering little Johnsons, 
who first brought her the news of his return, who, 
]ong embalmed in memory, and associated with the 
sunny days of childhood and youth, had become her 
beau ideal of excellence. No news could be altogeth- 
er new or unexpected to one, whose varying fancy 
had interwoven him with every fortune known in the 
history of man, from poverty to princely wealth, and 
who loved to remember him in every position in 
which he had been placed before her. But now, 
when the embodiment of long-cherished hopes and 
wishes was to be presented before her in all its living 
realities, an occasional cloud would pass over the sky 
of her prospects. Half afraid to soar, even in imagi- 
nation, to that felicity which seemed to await her, like 
the new-fledged eagle perched upon a cliff which 
overlooks the sea, now viewing the commotion of the 
waves, the shore, mountains and undulating fields, 
then, turning to the source of day, where azure fields 
beckon onward and upward, fearful, yet eager for the 
flight ; so she, hoping, wishing, doubtful, fearful, grew 
giddy with the depth which lay beneath the heaven 
of her wishes. 

6 



110 INKLINGS. 

William had informed the few companions of his 
leisure hours, that he intended to depart for the land 
of his nativity, accepted an invitation to accompany 
them in a farewell ramble over scenes where hours 
had passed pleasantly, in a friendly interchange of 
thought and sentiment, received and returned their 
sentiments of congratulation and esteem, gave the 
parting hand to his employer with reciprocal good 
wishes, gave one parting look to the city, as it rece- 
ded in the distance, his thoughts without restraint 
wandering over his past life, and finally settling 
around the green bower of home. The usual inci- 
dents of the way served to rouse him from a pleasing 
revery, in which he indulged during the passage to 
the scenes of his childhood and youth, which were 
deeply graven on the tablet of his memory. His per- 
sonal appearance had changed during his absence. 
He had laid aside the youth, and put on the man, 
well developed in all his proportions. An acquaint- 
ance with the world had caused the embarrassing ap- 
pearance of youth, bordering upon timidity, to disap- 
pear, and had given an easy and inviting turn to his 
manners, the natural result of an acquaintance with 
men in the various positions of society. His clothes 
were of that kind which would not attract particular 
attention in the city, but in the rural retreat of Green- 
ville, may expose him to the imputation of foppish- 
ness, although he thought as little of those now worn 
as he did of those worn in his youthful days. He 
was greeted with the usual welcome on his arrival 



INKLINGS. HI 

home, but he seemed more like a gentleman from New 
York, on a visit to the country, than their long-absent 
son. This impression soon disappeared around the 
fireside of home, where the scenes of former days 
were discussed, interspersed with incidents of travel, 
which served to link the present and the past. He 
informed his friends, that by industry and economy 
he had accumulated, not a splendid fortune, but what 
he considered a competence ; had seen something of 
the world, and obtained a fund for various, useful 
and interesting contemplations ; and possessing a pas- 
sion for rural life, increased by his personal knowl- 
edge of the care and trouble of commercial transac- 
tions, he intended to pass the remainder of his days 
in rural felicity, which approached the nearest to pri- 
meval bliss, of any thing within the range of his im- 
agination, that could be made practically available. 
He was enthusiastic in praising the country, there 
was so much misery and vice in a large city, to shock 
the sensibilities and degrade the dignity of human 
i nature ; here, was pure air and freedom from a feeling 
of restraint, and nature's scenery inviting to peaceful, 
quiet contemplation, where life flows on tranquilly, 
without any of those rude shocks which make the 
blood congeal around the heart. Man made the city, 
but God made the country ; and there was little pleas- 
ure for him in brick and mortar walls, though reared 
in splendid proportions and decorated with a polish- 
ed exterior, when compared with the green hill-side 
of his native town, with its feathered songster starting 



112 INKLINGS. 

from brake or bush to shake the dew-drop from its 
wing, and bathing in the morning sun, adding its 
chorus to the deep, gentle music of the neighboring 
waterfall. He had been at home several days, view- 
ed those familiar scenes of former times, clustering 
with associations of the past, seen many of his neigh- 
bors and former companions, and yet a shade of care 
and anxiety would, now and then, for a moment rest 
upon his brow, as if some bird of evil omen had pass- 
ed before his mental vision. One afternoon, while 
he was gone to the post-office, to deposite a memento 
for those he had left in the busy city, Grace might 
have been seen entering a well known, little gate in 
front of Mr. Johnson's, where she was met by a noble 
mastiff and escorted to the door, being re-paid for his 
courtesy, by a gentle caress from a hand he loved, 
and seemed proud of the honor of protecting. When 
William returned from the village, he was informed 
that an old acquaintance and friend was in the next 
room, where he was formally presented ; an hour or 
two passing quietly away, with a few common re- 
marks and inquiries. When the sun was setting, 
painting the fleecy clouds with scarlet, purple and 
violet, each from the deepest dye softening and fading 
into invisibility, he needed no prompting about hat 
and gloves, as Grace prepared for her departure. 
We do not suppose, that what was said during the 
walk, was highly intellectual or philosophical, and 
yet it might have possessed that magical power at- 
tributed to eloquence of the highest order. There 



INKLINGS 113 

was eloquence in "Nature's vernal smile," in the gor- 
geous sunset, and the gray twilight of the fading 
west ; and if busy thought, wrapt in the contempla- 
tion of the scene, forgot to break the enchanting spell 
which bound it, it required no effort to forgive the 
negligence. In the course of human events which 
followed this re-union of long-separated friends, Wil- 
liam became a frequent visitor at neighbor Garland's, 
until his absence caused a vacuum in their little so- 
cial circle, which was replaced with cheerfulness by 
his presence, dispersing the shade of saddened thought 
that will sometimes settle around the deep quiet of 
an isolated home. Few weeks had elapsed since his 
return, before busy rumor circulated the news of the 
intended marriage of those, who had innocently laid 
a foundation for the suspicion, and they were relieved 
from part of the embarrassment attending the prelim- 
inary arrangement, by the kind interference of friends. 
The nuptial ceremony, which took place at the home 
of Grace, was witnessed by a large collection of 
neighbors, and friends. The Parson and Deacon, 
the Squire and Boniface, and many young associates 
were present, all in the best of spirits. John Vernon 
and Julia Brown officiated in a well known capacity 
upon the occasion, and to some bantering remarks 
about marrying, John replied, that he always kept a 
place in the back parlor of his memory for rural 
beauty, and when the sign got into the hands, he 
should consider it perfectly safe to tie the Gordian 
knot, which had sometimes been hacked in two, but 



114 INKLINGS. 

never yet had been untied. Boniface proposed as a 
toast — a long life and a happy one to the married 
pair — which was received with all the applause suit- 
able to the time and place. In the midst of the in- 
troductions, congratulations and compliments which 
followed the ceremony, Mrs. Johnson found time to 
whisper to William ; " I suppose you have found a 
rose without a thorn." " Clouds and sunshine form 
the rainbow," was his reply. 



CHAPTER XI. 



THE SKEPTIC. 



Who would be a skeptic 1 The order, harmony, 
And beauty of all around, forbid it. 
"Order is heaven's first law." Nor need we ask 
For faith to mount with seraph above the 
Rolling sphere which we inhabit, to behold 
It matchless. The daily motion of the 
Earth upon her axle, her yearly wheeling 
Eound the sun, even the motion of her 
Icy poles, declares it. We see it in 
Yerdant spring, in blooming summer, in golden 
Autumn, and in dreary winter. Each in 
Turn with order rules the varied year. 
And did not order teach us to expect the 
Blast of winter, the cold winds which whistle 
Over the recent sickled harvest, would 
Seem to sing our funeral dirge, and smiling 



116 INKLINGS. 

Spring succeeding with its rich prospect, would 

Cause our hearts to leap with joy. But unceasing 

Order rules the changing seasons, tempers 

Spring's pleasures with thoughts of future change, and 

Softens the harshness of the howling tempest, 

With the sweet prospect of returning bloom. 

" Order is Heaven's first law ;" nor is it 

Only to be found in the rolling spheres 

And changing seasons. Earth, teeming with her 

Millions, innumerable in form and 

Nature, speaks the infinity of order. 

The hoary ocean with its finny tribes, 

Lofty mountains whose towering summits pierce the 

Sky, wide extended valleys with waving 

Fields and pleasant prospects, filled with every 

Grade of being ; Asia's frozen plains and 

Afric's burning sands, the tropics with their 

Monsters, and polar snows, with beings clad 

In nature's robes, — all, all, earth, sea and sky, 

Is stamped with the presence of eternal 

Wisdom and eternal order. From the 

Smallest insect that flutters in the summer 

Breeze, to man, creation's lord, the noblest 

Of creation's works, (though since his fall stript 

Of many a manly attribute, none greater 

Than that simplicity which spoke without 

Reserve the workings of his heart,) how wonderful, 

How perfect the mechanism of earth's great 



INKLINGS. 117 

Architect ! The Globe that we inhabit, 

With its oceans and its lofty mountains, 

Which seem to us so vast, is but a unit 

In her harmonious system ; her sister 

Venus, who twinkles in loveliness in 

The gray twilight of the fading west, her 

Brother Herschel, that with six moons in more 

Than eighty years performs his tedious journey, 

And Saturn, whose sky is paved with sunshine, 

And Jupiter, the monarch of the moving 

System, whose huge bulk equals thrice five hundred 

Of his sister Earth, perform their wonted 

Journey around the dazzling orb of day. 

Each pursues its destined course, true as the 

Needle to the pole. Each revolves upon 

Its axle, that Sol's cheering rays may visit 

All its kingdoms and its people. All move 

On in harmony, each in its destined 

Place. But whence are they ? Who gave them form so 

Nicely fitted for their motion, and motion, 

That force centripetal should balance its 

Opposing force, and each forever fill 

The circle marked by Heaven ? Chance ! Can chance 

Produce ? Has skeptic ever seen a grain 

Of sand which chance has made 7 Then yield to reason, 

Though finite can never grasp infinity, 

And say, the hand which made, gave them their unfelt 

Motion, and their Creator, as all who 

6 # 



118 INKLINGS. 

Ponder will admit, was, and must have been, 
Omnipotent and good. But we need not 
"Wander into space's boundless regions, 
Where primaries with their attendant orbs, 
Move in solemn silence round day's great luminary, 
Through trackless ether in their penciled paths. 
Earth has enough to tune the lyre, for ages 
Yet to come. Her store is boundless. Her waving 
Forests, verdant fields, fragile flowers ; her shining 
Ores, crystals and pearls ; her thousand, different, 
Breathing forms that " wing the sky," or walk the 
Plain, or dart with instinct through the yielding 
Flood, have oft been sung in numbers sweet ; and 
Yet the store is boundless. Who could exhaust 
Earth's curious treasure ? or who could tell all 
Nature's beauties ? There is not a path that 
Poet ever traversed, but has unculled 
Flowers — has beauties in reserve — to tempt 
Her votaries to ascend and sit with 
Those whom she has honored. She spreads her wealth 
Before his wondering gaze, for man to study 
And admire, and through her lovely works look 
Upward^ and adore the boundless wisdom 
Of her lovely Author. 

But man has ever been man's favorite theme. 
He delights to feast upon the beauties 
Of nature's scenery, to watch the pinioned 
Eagle, as it soars above the reach of 



INKLINGS. 119 

Clouds and storms ; the dashing spray of mountain 

Rill, as it tumbles headlong from a neighboring 

Height ; the stately forest, as it bends its 

Leafy boughs before the rising gale ; the 

Gentle music of the valley stream, as 

Its playful tenants leap from its ripling bosom. 

These he views with pleasure. But he is pleased, 

Delighted, amazed, bewildered, when he 

Turns from these, to contemplate, in his own 

M3 T sterious self, the matchless skill displayed 

In heaven's great master-piece. Strange, complex 

Being, man ! " Midway from nothing to the 

Deity !" " Connecting link of brute and 

Seraph," uniting in himself extremes 

That dupe his own credulity ! " Mortal, 

Immortal, good, evil, neither, both." Endowed 

With reason to temper his wishes and 

His desires to moderate, to cool his 

Passions and animate his sloth. Free, noble 

Gift ! Heaven's dearest legacy ! Free, or 

Else Sovereign Wisdom has said, thou shalt not, 

And then compels the act. 



120 INKLINGS. 



TEE CAUSE. 



I saw the progeny of Adam all engaged 

In one turmoil, as if the object which 

They were destined to accomplish, was to 

Impede each other's progress, and strew each other's 

Path with thorns. And long and many were the 

Musings which this scene caused, and deep the reveries 

To unfold the mysterious operation of man's kindling passions. 

Strange being, man ! surprising strange ! In that 

Breast where gentleness, kind wishes, and good 

Feelings, now hold a momentary sway, 

In that same bosom may soon be heard the 

Billows of passion's stormy sea, tossing 

Frail reason's bark from surge to surge, or sinking 

It submerged beneath the waves. Those lips, which 

Now distill their honeyed sweets, those very 

Lips, to morrow may o'erflow with imprecations 

Dire, such as would best befit the host of 

Satan, when hurled by the archangel from 

Heaven's high battlements. Those eyes, that now 

"With luster sparkle, which bespeaks the reign 

Of joy within, those eyes, may kindle with 

A flame not lighted at the shrines of earth, 

Or heaven. I mused, and thought, and mused again. 

Who could bequeath their race such legacy as this ? 



INKLINGS. 1 21 

Why could not man enjoy perpetual sunshine ? 

I summoned memory to her office, and 

Bid her travel through the winding scenes of time, 

And solve this mystery. "When, lo ! she, ever 

Faithful to her charge, unlocked the secret! 

An apple was the cause, and woman the offender. 



CALIFORNIA. 



Far, far to the west, where the waves of Pacific 
Lave the shores of a country by nature prolific ; 
Where the mild zephyr greets, from the isles of the ocean, 
The brow of the weary one, tossed with commotion ; 
Where the rays of the sun, first crossing the mountains, 
Glide down with the streams from their high mossy fountains 5 
Where sun, moon and stars, and all nature the while. 
Seem wreathed by some magic in one bonny smile ; — 
There, there's El Dorado, of the furthest far- west ; 
The wished land of the weary, sweet home of the blest, 
Dame Nature has mixed with the river's vile sand, 
Throughout a large tract of this far-famous land, 
Gold, gold, yellow gold, summum bonum of man $ 
Wise, stupid or foolish, deny if you can, 



122 INKLINGS. 

"What though in the visions of deep midnight-dreams. 
No domes there may glitter in SoPs sinking beams, 
And Yulcan has forged there the bolt for high Jove 
To hurl on the poor that in other lands rove, 
And round o'er the land, lofty mountains may rise, 
And mingle their summits with blue spangled skies ; 
Though dreaded disease, from the land of the sun. 
And far distant regions, may even there come ; 
When it thrives on the nerves and bewilders the brain, 
Makes man feel the anguish and torture of pain. 
Though friends are away, and no one may be nigh, 
To relieve his distress by imparting a sigh; — 
Yet, with pockets filled with the nice, yellow gold, 
If weary and hungry, and chilled with the cold, 
He may smile at others by fortune less favored, 
Whose suppers, perhaps, may not be so well savored ; 
But will he be able, with his thousands of pelf, 
Always to be merry, and to laugh at himself? — 
The great question of gold is a sore vexing case. 
Which is often debated with sober long face. 
The poor know too well the worth of the creature, 
In most of its forms, in every rich feature, 
Yet are happier far, in my estimation, 
Than the rich, who are troubled with its vexation. 
If a competence here is all we enjoy, 
Sure more than this, must many pleasures destroy. 
Gold makes man a murderer, robber and thief, 
Makes friends quarrel often, and causes much grief; 



INKLINGS. 123 

And if. as the wise say, of evil the root, 
Dig not the vile weed, let it grow under foot. 

Had I the gold of all that place. 
And all contained within the space 

Of India, East and "West ; 
Would give it all without a thought. 
And think the treasure cheaply bought, 

The treasure of the blest : 
Blest with a friend, both true and kind, 
Which frozen climes can scarcely find, 

Or find but to destroy ; 
A friend, forgetful of his store, 
A friend well skilled in worldly lore, 

A friend without alloy. 



TIME. 



In tHe morn of creation, when slumbers awoke 
From the darkness of chaos, and beauty first spoke. 
And gay, flowery arbors enchanted the scene, 
Like the bright tinseled vision of some fairy queen ;- 



124 INKLINGS. 

Old Time then was young, fair, and sporting in bowers, 

Sipt nectar ambrosial from all the sweet flowers. 

Old Time was a boy, and with bright laughing eye, 

Viewed all the fair scene without knowing a sigh. 

His form was erect, and his brow then was fair; 

Time, Time, no wrinkles were then written there ! 

His inward perception was clear and sublime, 

It had not been dimmed or benumbed by a crime. 

The earth on its axis rolled changes around, 

Not such as at present, yet changes profound ; 

The tint of the rose had suffused his fair face, 

The air of young manhood had taken the place 

Of the gay smiling boy, and with thoughts busy now, 

On the wide world around he made him a vow, 

To visit its places, its people to see, 

And whatever else in the world there might be. 

One lingering look to enchantment around him, 

One last adieu to those scenes which surround him. 

Streamlet, grove and bower, 
Gemmed with many a flower ; 

Farewell ! 
Music and your fragrance, 
May cause a sigh to vagrants ; 

Farewell ! 
Thoughts of you will cheer me, 
Whatever may be near me 5 

Farewell ! 



INKLINGS. 125 

Change has marked his progress, since he first began 
To travel round the world, and see his brother man. 
He has dined with princes, and made his evening meal, 
Amid war's thundering roar, and fearful bristling steel. 
Names written on earth's towers, the highest in the land, 
Time glances, passes, they are written in the sand. 
He never has paused, except on Gibeon's height ; 
His way is the eagle's, descending in its flight. 
Time, forget thy course, and stay awhile thy woes ! 
Let kindness make us glad, and we will not be foes. 
He heeds not the prayer by the suppliant given, 
Though forced from a heart that by anguish is riven ; 
His course is still onward, and onward forever, 
Though earth's dearest ties, he ruthless may sever I 



FOR A FRIEND. 



Some sing the beauties of the verdant field, 
When Spring attires them in its gaudy dress ? 

And sweetly sing the pleasures which they yield 3 
And tell with rapture of their power to bless. 



126 INKLING?. 

Some chant the blushing morn with purple hue, 
When Sol first rises in the glowing east, 

Or the rich prospect fading from the view, 
When he declines behind the burnished west. 

Others see charms in all the flowery race, 
Whose opening petals with effulgence glow ; 

Each a fit emblem of some kindred grace, 
Or kindest feeling we can ever know. 

But neither verdant field nor blushing morn, 
Nor all the fancied charms that flowers impart, 

Can yield such pleasure, as a lovely form, 
And sweet communion with a kindred heart. 



TO A BIRD IN SPRING. 



Sweet warbler of day's early dawn ! 

Whence has thy flight been taken ? 
From landscapes fair, and dewy lawn, 

Our slumbers to awaken ? 



INKLINGS. 127 

Fair tenant of the verdant bough ! 

"Why sing no note of sadness ; 
Hast never made one solemn vow, 

To wreck thee of thy gladness 1 

Pure innocent ! Could I but wing 

High in the air my flight sublime ; 
I too. with thee would soar and sing, 

Thoughtless of all but present time ! 

It may not be. so fare thee well 

Sweet, fair and innocent to see ; 
Thy song has made my bosom swell 

"With transport not unknown to thee ! 



FOR A LADY'S ALBUM. 



While here are strung the pearls of thought. 

And names you dearly prize, 
Mine may perchance be counted naught, 

By those known to be wise ; 
And yet, in counting o'er the string, 

Through haste and great surprise, 
It may be called the real thing, 

"Which I would not despise. 



CHAPTER XII. 



The following Disputations were prepared at dif- 
ferent times and for various occasions, and adding a 
little to that variety which is called the spice of life, 
it is hoped they may be acceptable ; at any rate, they 
are debatable : 



IS THE BEADING OF WORKS OF FICTION BENE- 
FICIAL? 



In making an excursion into a country hitherto 
unexplored by me in the field of debate, the assist- 
ance of companions may be necessary in pulling 
down prominences, filling up cavities, and especially 
in building bridges over such streams as may be too 
wide or too deep to be passed without them. And 
let me entreat you to throw the mantle of charity 
over your prejudices, and proceed to its investigation 



INKLINGS. 129 

with that " sober, second thought" which the impor- 
portance of the subject demands ; and without that 
fanatical bigotry with which it has sometimes been 
assailed on one side, or that obscene familiarity with 
which it has been courted, on the other. Man pre- 
sents a subject replete with interest for his own con- 
templation, both in his physical construction, and in 
that more wonderful organization of his mental and 
moral powers ; and these are all so intimately con- 
nected, that each performs not only its own office, 
but assists or retards its neighbor and dependent. 
In those nobler characteristics which distinguish him 
from the brutes that perish, he presents a theme sub- 
lime as creation, and boundless as the universe. In 
the commencement of his existence, it is true that he 
has only the capacity to learn, but that capacity 
grows with his growth, strengthens with his strength, 
expands with his inquiries ; and man may not place 
bounds to the endless extension of his power. Be- 
ginning with creation's dawn, he can travel through 
all the winding scenes of time ; live with the patri- 
arch's of old, converse with the philosophers, sing 
with the poets, and listen to the voice of the past, 
which echoes from the mouldering ruins of empires, 
the causes of their decline and downfall. Yet man's 
perceptive powers are not the most ennobling charac- 
teristics of his nature : he possesses fancy, imagination, 
genius ; the power to make new arrangements from 
old combinations ; the power of the limner to unite 
in one breathing portrait the excellencies of a thou- 



130 INKLINGS. 

sand individuals, omitting their defects ; the power 
of arranging sound with such sweet cadence, that it 
melts in delicious music on the ear ; the power which 
makes the "dull, cold marble*' speak of love, pity 
and adoration. This is genius. This is fancy dis- 
tilled in his intellectual alembic, whose feelings have 
power to kindle the flame. Reason is the helm with 
which fancy guides her fairy bark, over unexplored 
seas. She enthrones man upon the arch of the rain- 
bow, to rule the spirits which she summons from " the 
vasty deep." She leads him through fields fairer 
than ever bloomed, groves more beautiful than ever 
waved their foliage in the breeze, landscapes more 
enchanting than ever met the vision, palaces more 
gaudy than were ever the abodes of princes ; and 
after conducting him over all the imagery of earth, 
as if confined within too narrow limits, she bids him 
traverse the regions of the Queen of night, who 
greets us with her silver beams, and the dazzling lu- 
minary whose rays the eagle's eye alone can pene- 
trate, and all the planets which revolve around him ; 
thence she directs his course to other suns and other 
worlds, till wearied with the flight, at last she seeks 
her native earth. O, who can describe the potency 
of that magic wand, with which she waves into ex- 
istence the uncreated beings of her power ! She 
teaches man by parables, dreams and allegories, and 
he reasons upon her visions with the certain deduc- 
tions of logic. She places him in ten thousand dif- 



INKLINGS 131 

ferent positions, to choose in advance the best course 
to pursue. 

And shall we be told, that the beautiful, morally 
sublime of poetry and romance, has nothing to do 
with business transactions, unfits men for the sober 
duties of life ? It may be replied, that flowers, the 
poetry of nature, 

c - the alphabet of angels. 



"Wherewith they write on hill and field, 
Mysterious truths," — 

are not necessary ; that Ceres should wave her corn, 
where the rose sheds its fragrance. Kind Nature is 
not covetous in her bountiful provisions. She regales 
us with the fragrance of flowers, and instead of ma- 
king the world one great corn-field, we have that va- 
riety of scenery which is the source of much more 
pleasure. If it is true, that nothing which she be- 
stows is useless, it follows, that the fancy should be 
cultivated, chastened and refined ; not permitted to 
grow up as some youth are, in the street, without pa- 
rental advice and restraint, but with such guides as 
Milton, Young, Pollok, and a host of others too nu- 
merous to mention. 



132 INKLINGS. 



THE BAR VERSUS THE PULPIT, AS A FIELD OF 
ELOQUENCE. 



It may be a matter of surprise, that youth who 
have hardly entered the field of science, should pre- 
sume to discuss before an enlightened assembly, the 
comparative merits of the Pulpit and the Bar, us a 
field for eloquence. It is a subject indeed, the inves- 
tigation of which requires mature intellect, and some- 
thing, at least, of that high quality of which it treats. 
The former, it is well known, we do not possess, and 
it would be the height of presumption for us to lay 
claim to the latter. At some future period, after the 
necessary, preparatory discipline, we may be permit- 
ted to speak at the Bar of justice, or be called to min- 
ister at the sacred Altar ; and although higher and 
nobler motives will, Ave trust, influence our decision, 
yet which of these presents a field the most favora- 
ble for the display of Eloquence, is an inquiry not 
without interest 

It is the province and prerogative of Eloquence, 
w r herever exhibited, to convince and to persuade. 
This power of convincing, of persuading, of exciting 
the interest, of rousing the passions, and of controll- 
ing the will, may be found to some extent in every 
department of public speaking, and is doubtless a 
powerful engine, wherever it may be wielded ; but I 
would maintain, that its peculiar province is pre-emi- 



INKLINGS. 135 

nently at the Bar. The writings of .the master spir- 
its with which the lawyer must be conversant, the 
profound learning and unwavering integrity of those 
before whom he is to speak, the watchful jealousy of 
acute and selfish opposition, and the exciting topics 
which he is called upon to discuss, are all calculated 
to elicit the highest flights of genius, to call forth the 
exertions of the most exalted, intellectual power. 
What situation can be found, so moving, so exciting, 
as that of the practitioner at the bar ? Standing as a 
minister of justice, maintaining and protecting the 
rights of his clients, defending the cause of helpless 
innocence, rescuing the reputation which has been 
tarnished by the breath of slander, palsying the arm 
of oppression, and exciting the just indignation of the 
good, against vice in all its deformity, and crime in 
all its hideousness. Where in the range of intellect- 
ual action can be found subjects equally calculated 
to excite, and where fields so well fitted to display 
vigorous thought, close reasoning, the exercise of 
sound judgment, deep and pathetic feeling, the play 
of fancy and the creating power of the imagination ? 
Shall we be told, in the Pulpit? I will answer in the 
words of another, who is acknowledged as a compe- 
tent judge, and whose partialities, if he was in any 
degree under their influence, were all in favor of that 
sacred profession. 

i: The pulpit orator is in too quiet possession of his 
field. His subjects are worn out and long since ex- 
hausted. They have for ages employed so many 
7 



134 INKLINGS. 

speakers, the public ear is so much accustomed to 
taem, that it requires more than an ordinary power 
of genius, to fix attention. Nothing within the reach 
of art is more -difficult, than to bestow on what is 
common, the grace of novelty. No sort of composi- 
tion whatever, is -such a tiial of skill, as where the 
merit of it lies wholly in the execution ; not in'giving 
any information that is new, not in convincing men 
of what they did not believe, but in dressing truths 
which they knew and of which they were convinced, 
in such colors as may most forcibly affect their heart. 
It is to be considered too, that the subject of the 
preacher confines him to abstract qualities, to virtues 
and to vices, while that of the pleaders of the Bar 
leads them to treat of persons, which is a subject that 
interests the hearers more, and takes faster hold of 
the imagination. They with more facility rouse your 
indignation. It is from these causes, that we have 
so great a number of moderately good preachers, 
while we have, however, so few that are singularly 
eminent. It may be considered, too, that preaching 
is no proper subject of the art of eloquence. This . 
belongs only to human studies and inventions, while 
the truths of religion, with the greater simplicity and 
the less mixture of art they are set forth, are likely 
to prove the more successful." 

The advantages of the Bar may be further illus- 
trated from the orators which it has produced. The 
matchless power which was wielded by the great 
models of antiquity, Demosthenes and Cicero, is well 



INKLINGS. 135 

known and universally acknowledged. At their de- 
scription of sorrow, the tear of sympathy might be 
seen on every cheek. At their picture of crime, eve- 
ry bosom burned with indignation. At their com- 
mand, the bosoms of thousands were calmed or agi- 
tated ; by the force of their Eloquence, they could 
break confederacies and control anarchy. To what 
names shall we look in England for Eloquence like 
that of Sheridan and Burke, of Pitt and Brougham, 
of Curran and Phillips? And who in our land has 
ministered at the holy Altar, that has, by his Elo- 
quence, exerted such a sway over the minds of our 
countrymen, as Otis and Adams, as Patrick Henry 
and Lee, as Webster and Hayne, as Clay, and last, 
not least, the favorite son of New- York, our own Van 
Buren ? We believe the argument to be unanswer- 
able, and that it leads to the conclusion, that the Bar 
is the native soil of true Eloquence. 



DO THE STGXS OF THE TIMES THREATEN THE PER- 
MANENCY OF OUR FREE INSTITUTIONS ? 



The meaning of this question appears to be, will 
existing evils warrant us in coming to the conclusion, 
that our free Institutions will soon be annihilated ; 
that the great American fabric, which may be called 
the wonder of the world and the cheering hope of 
millions, is to be overthrown ; and that ignorance, 



136 INKLINGS. 

superstition and barbarism, such as has been the 
painful task of history to record, are again to rule 
where the arts, and sciences, and free principles have 
been ? This question is certainly one of peculiar 
interest to us all, and if there be good reasons for in- 
clining to the affirmative, they should be admitted 
with frankness, and while they sadden the heart, they 
should invigorate the efforts of the benevolent and 
philanthropic. That evils have existed, and still ex- 
ist in our Government, as well as in all others which 
have ever flourished, we wish not to deny. That 
there are evils too, which in the amount of happiness 
they destroy, and in their pernicious influence, are of 
a lamentable magnitude, we are willing to admit. 
But that our free Institutions are to be shaken from 
their firm foundation, that a people possessing a good 
degree of intelligence and virtue, accustomed to self- 
government and to watch with vigilance the interests 
of the nation, are soon to bow the knee to kingly 
power or to a despot with his iron scepter, is some- 
thing which must have originated in the chimerical 
brain of the false prophets of our land, who, possess- 
ing the same spirit with some of old, have industri- 
ously circulated their prophetic visions, hoping that 
it would assist in their final accomplishment. That 
we have nothing to fear from a direct usurpation of 
power by those in official stations, will, we think, be 
apparent to all who will give themselves a moment's 
reflection. The people have ever been divided into 
two great, political parties which watch each other's 



INKLINGS. 137 

actions with Argus eyes, and the first step beyond 
the limits of the Constitution, so far from passing 
with impunity, will receive the severest censure, with 
ail the aggravating circumstances which the jealous 
fancy of opposing inclinations can suggest. And 
until it can be shown, that the people will sacrifice 
their Liberty upon the altar of party prejudice, we 
have nothing to fear from political intrigue and cor- 
ruption ; and I challenge the affirmative to find a 
man whose influence might cause any apprehensions, 
who would not declare that whenever he should be 
convinced the measures of his favorite party would 
have a dangerous tendency, he would immediately 
abandon it. If, then, it be true, that our constitutions 
and laws are firmly based in the unbiased attach- 
ment of the great majority of the people, to support 
the affirmative of this question, it must be shown that 
some great evil now exists, or soon will, which, by 
its increasing magnitude and vitiating tendency, will 
spread a blighting influence over the minds of the 
inhabitants, and paramount to that which peace, 
prosperity and freedom can exert. And with all due 
deference for the labored efforts of our opponents, we 
ask, Sir, if such an evil has been shown us? Has 
it been shown, that slavery, of the most fearful mag- 
nitude of the black catalogue of modern evils, can 
effect the whole length and breadth of this vast Re- 
public, so as to endanger our great social fabric ? We 
wish to treat this question with respect and candor, 
and although we believe its importance has been ex- 



138 INKLINGS. 

aggerated by some of its anti-friends, yet admitting 
the worst construction which can be put upon it, we 
think it but illy favors the affirmative of this ques- 
tion. The most gloomy prognosticators only predict 
a dismemberment of the Union, and two govern- 
ments, viewing differently the institution of slavery. 
And for a moment admitting even this, the sister re- 
publics of ancient Greece could chant in unison the 
praises of Liberty and their gods , and surely it would 
be a blot upon the name of Christianity, if sister re- 
publics of modern times, could not sing without dis- 
cord, the praises of liberty and a common Saviour. 
But this we have conceded only for the sake of argu- 
ment, and we indulge the most sanguine hopes, that 
efforts which are being made, will continue until this 
evil shall be peacefully eradicated. I am aware that 
you may be told by those who take more pleasure in 
pulling down than in building up, that these efforts 
will bring upon us greater evils than they will de- 
stroy. This conclusion is derived from the fact, that 
there are a few in this, as in all benevolent enterpri- 
ses, whose zeal impels them beyond their knowledge, 
and whose ill-timed warmth might, perhaps, with 
some propriety, be branded with fanaticism. But 
that it is unfair to judge a whole society from the 
character of a few individuals, needs no argument. 
The wisdom and piety of the great majority, would 
not permit them to destroy what we all lament as a 
disgrace, at the expense of a greater evil than slave- 
ry itself. It seems to be a misfortune of our oppo- 



INKLINGS. 139 

nents, to resort to arguments which have lost most 
of their importance. The subject of duelling, which 
appears to have no bearing upon this question, any 
further than it proves a corrupt state of morals in this 
particular, can, we think, with safety be numbered 
with the evils which have been. Since the unfortu- 
nate affair of Cilley, it has merited and received the 
attention of Congress, and we may expect, that with 
few exceptions, the laws of honor will hereafter yield 
to the better ones of humanity. The subject of in- 
temperance, which, a few years since, might have 
furnished the affirmative with a good argument now 
permits us to say, that the Signs of the Times indicate 
a speedy reform from habits of an immoral tendency. 
The subject of immigration, which formerly alarmed 
the fears of some, has lost most of its importance in 
the estimation of many. It is true, that many who 
flock to our shores from Europe are ignorant and de- 
graded, but they have experienced enough to make 
them so ; they have been oppressed and trampled 
upon, and the moment they land upon our shores, the 
most alluring inducements invite them to industrious 
efforts ; and observation informs us, that many of 
them soon possess a smiling plenty, and that all, 
with few exceptions, cherish the warmest attachment 
for the institutions of their adopted country, 

Bat there is one point, upon which, I am happy to 
sav, we shall all agree. It requires no argument to 
prove it, for it is admitted by all, however widely 
they may differ in the minor points of politics or eth- 



140 INKLINGS, 

ics. The only firm basis for free institutions, is the 
intelligence and virtue of the great mass of the peo- 
ple. And if experience proves, that they hitherto 
have been sufficient for the purpose of self-govern- 
ment, the inquiry remains, are we less intelligent and 
less moral than our worthy ancestors ? And in an- 
swer, let the academies which have arisen in almost 
every village, let the improvements which are being 
made in our common schools, and the interest felt by 
legislators who execute the will of their constituents, 
reply for the general diffusion of knowledge through 
the community ; and let the good order, the morality, 
the respect for religion, and the spires which glitter in 
the rising and setting sun of every hamlet, reply to 
the charge of degeneracy. 



WERE THE ALLIED POWERS OF EUROPE JUSTIFIA- 
BLE, IN BANISHING NAPOLEON ? 



To be able to arrive at correct conclusions upon 
any subject, a close attention to all the surrounding 
and attending circumstances is always necessary; 
and, perhaps, in no other case is it more indispensa- 
bly so, than in the consideration of the question be- 
fore us. But as neither time nor ability will admit 
of giving you all the particulars, for it would be giv- 
ing you the history of Europe, we will state a few of 
the most important facts, influencing the close of the 



INKLING*. ] 41 

eventful career of the Alexander of his age. And as 
France was intimately connected with the history of 
his life, it will be necessary to view its situation, a 
moment previous to the commencement of the mete- 
or-like course of the most ambitious and aspiring 
man, to be found in the annals of the world. France, 
previous to the revolution which placed her destiny 
at the disposal of Napoleon, was, as the other king- 
doms of Europe were, or had been, ruled by heredi- 
tary sovereigns, with little or no restraint ; and of 
course, her happiness depended much upon the char- 
acter of her kings. But France was free, when com- 
pared with the tyranny which followed the revolu- 
tion. Louis twelfth, surnamed the Father of his peo- 
ple, when informed that he was ridiculed by certain 
comedians upon the stage, replied : "These men may 
teach us some useful truths. Let them proceed in 
their amusement so long as they respect female hon- 
or. I shall not regret its being known that under my 
reign they took this liberty with impunity." But the 
autocrat who wore the imperial diadem, upon hear- 
ing that he had been but distantly alluded to, gave 
instant orders for the performers to be driven into exile. 
But notwithstanding the government was generally 
mild, it could not be expected, that France would long 
remain an age behind her neighbors in political im- 
provement. The grand axiom of her political creed — - 
"As wills the king, so wills the law 7 ' — had yielded in 
England, to the more genial doctrines of a limited mon- 
archy, in which the power of the king was restrain- 



142 INKLINGS. 

ed, and the rights of the people acknowledged. But 
unfortunately for Frenchmen, in trying to regain their 
rights they burst all the restraining barriers of the so- 
cial compact; and persecution, imprisonment and 
murder were the order of the day, till the time ar- 
rived in which man appeared to be transformed into 
a demon, and scenes ensued which gave it a name 
but too expressive of the history of its events — a the 
reign of terror." 

After the fall of Robespierre, a tottering government 
succeeded, which gave but feeble security for peace 
and order. Yet by degrees, it acquired strength and 
permanency, till many began to hope that the 
object of the revolution would finally be accomplish- 
ed. And now a new actor in the drama of the 
French revolution appears, to change the whole cur- 
rent of affairs, and dazzle by the splendor of his ex- 
ploits, and bewilder by the daring of his designs. A 
Corsican, remarkable in his youth for his love of 
mathematics, military mimicry, and a proud, unyield- 
ing, aspiring will, had received an education which 
well prepared him to act his part, in the turbulent 
times in which fortune had placed him. His talents 
and bravery soon procured him a situation in the ar- 
my of his adopted country, and from that day for, 
ward, to his Russian campaign, his course was one 
of almost uninterrupted success. The bridge of Lo- 
di attested his courage in the field of battle ; the pas- 
sage of the Alps, that nature presented to him no in- 
surmountable obstacle. By his affability and victo- 



INKLINGS. 143 

ries, he gained the hearts of the soldiery, and finally 
succeeded in being proclaimed emperor of the Fren 
but when the books were opened for the expression 
of the people's will, we find only three or four millions 
recording their names in the affirmative, in an em- 
pire with a population of thirty millions. But admi- 
ration of his talents, or dread of his power in the 
army, and a recollection of the horrid scenes of the 
past, silenced the murmurings of the people ; and all 
who loved glory and conquest, more than liberty a 
domestic happiness, (and they were not a few 7 .) wei 
willing to assist their ambitious leader in disturbing 
the repose of Europe. And the effects of the ruling 
passion of Napoleon, were not to be confined to one 
small quarter of the globe. The wave must be 
tinged with the blood of the Gaul and Britain, in the 
sanguine engagement of Trafalgar ; and the sandy 
desert whitened with the bleaching bones of the fren- 
zied followers of Mahomet and Bonaparte, who fell 
in the .keen conflict of the Pyramids. He visited 
Arabia and Syria with the sword, and would neither 
have sheathed his bloody steel, nor paused upon the 
banks of the Ganges to sigh, till as supreme arbiter 
of the fate of the world, he had been seated upon a 
throne whose base was the hemispheres. But happy 
for man, there is One who can say, " thus far and no 
further," and none can pass beyond it. 

Should the friends of ambition, with a knowledge 
of the facts before them, undertake the justification 
of their fallen leader, they will pardon us for a single 



144 INKLINGS. 

suggestion, which we think, can not have escaped 
their own contemplations. With all the ' blazonry 
which surrounds the name of Napoleon, history has 
not yet recorded the deeds of benevolence, to com- 
pensate for his wanton waste of treasure, happiness, 
and life. And surely no one will say, he possessed 
the right of disposing of the life of one individual, 
even if empires were the purchase of his blood, to 
gratify his ambition ; or that aught, but motives the 
noblest which can sway the human bosom, can clear 
his conscience from reproach, who has deprived a fel- 
low-man of the inalienable right to live. 

ON THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. 



The choice of a profession or occupation for life, 
is an event of such frequent occurrence, that it can 
not excite interest by its novelty, and yet the magni- 
tude of the consequences which depend upon the 
choice, is probably never fully appreciated. The 
happiness of a man's whole life, often depends mate- 
rially upon his wisdom in choosing an occupation, to 
which his natural abilities, taste, habits and previous 
acquirements, all unite in directing him, as the one 
in which he may reasonably hope for success. And 
if it be true, that there is a natural difference in tal- 
ent, ability, or capacity to learn, this difference should 
carefully be considered in the choice of a profession 



INKLINGS. 145 

or occupation. The "natural traits of character" as 
they are sometimes called, may eminently qualify an 
individual for some particular occupation, and may 
almost insure his success in that; and these very 
" traits" may make eminence doubtful in any other 
pursuit. An ardent lover of mathematics — one who 
is delighted with the solution of a difficult problem, 
or the demonstration of an intricate theorem, might 
choose an occupation in which his powers of calcula- 
tion would lie dormant, and an individual who could 
not distinguish a triangle from a trapezoid, would 
become his successful rival ; yet it is evident, if the 
mathematician had chosen a pursuit in which the 
reasoning powers would have been called into vigor- 
ous exercise, in which he would have been required 
to trace effect from cause and vice versa, and to de- 
termine from circumstances and probable events, the 
best course to pursue to escape the quicksands of ad- 
verse contingencies, his competitor would have joined 
in an unequal contest for the prize attending success. 
This is but a single instance, for the purpose of illus- 
tration. Many similar cases might not only be sup- 
posed, but proved to exist, in which individuals, eith- 
er misjudging themselves, or yielding to the wishes 
of friends, or the counsel of those incompetent to ad- 
vise, have struggled through life for a competence; 
without ever becoming an ornament to the profession 
which they have chosen. A father has designed his 
eldest son for the ministry, who has entered the pro- 
fession with limited prospects of success, The pro- 



146 INKLINGS. 

fession of Law is selected for his second son, and the 
remaining profession for his third, without assigning 
any reason for his choice, except, that he selected the 
Law for his second, because his eldest was in the 
Ministry, and the profession of Physic for his third, 
because he had a son in each of the other professions. 

The feelings should be consulted in the choice of 
an occupation, for the intellect will never grapple 
with difficulties with so good a prospect of success, 
as when the feelings are enlisted in favor of the ob- 
ject which occupies the mind. They invigorate the 
intellect, enliven the imagination, and harmonize all 
the mental faculties ; giving the individual the power 
of uniting and concentrating their whole force upon 
any given point. They are to the mind, what the 
sun is to the earth ; giving it light, life and produc- 
tion. 

But there are difficulties, besides those attending 
the selection of a profession. The student has em- 
ployed years in laboring to prepare himself for pro- 
fessional business, and then, perhaps, finds that he 
has only entered upon the threshold of difficulties. 
He observes men in the profession which he has cho- 
sen, who have enjoyed equal preparatory advantages, 
and who can bring to their assistance years of pro- 
fessional experience. And in addition to this positive 
advantage which they possess, some of them, elated 
with an occasional token of success, assume for them- 
selves an eminence above their fellows ; and having 
intrenched themselves behind the palisades of their 



INKLINGS. 147 

profession, they retire to their "sanctum sanctorum/' 
and to the first who may enter within their enclosure, 
they exclaim with all the pious indignation of the 
prophetess of Virgil — Procul, O procul este, profani ! 
These difficulties should be carefully considered, 
before a final decision upon so important a subject, 
as the choice of a profession. But when that decis- 
ion is made, it should be like the laws of the Medes 
and Persians, which do not change. The motto 
should not only be, " labor omnia vincit," but also, 
"nil desperat^um;*' or in other words, unweary la- 
bor should be united with a never-ceasing hope of fi- 
nal success. And who can doubt, that such exer- 
tions would be, sooner or later, crowned with suc- 
cess ? 



CHAPTER XIII. 



The following Oration was delivered to a large 
and respectable audience, in which were a few sur- 
vivors of seventy-six. The date and other particu- 
lars will be found as you proceed. 

Fellow-Citizens : — 

Another revolution of the earth with 
its changing seasons, again reminds us of our Nation- 
al Jubilee. Another blooming summer has flown, 
another golden autumn ; winter with its domestic 
peace and social bliss, has quickly glided, and spring 
with its genial flowers, has given a brighter hue to 
blooming expectations. And amid these peaceful 
revolutions of nature, no revolution of armies has dis- 
turbed the stillness of the scene, with the din of bat- 
tle and the clash of arms. Our ears have not been 
saluted with the clanking of a tyrant's chains, nor 
our eyes, with a crimson tide flowing from patriot 
hearts, struggling to burst the fetters of an unfeeling 



INKLINGS. 149 

despot. Neither war, nor pestilence, nor famine^ 
those withering scourges of the human race, has 
wasted our country, depopulated its cities, or crippled 
its resources. But in the enjoyment of peace aud 
comparative prosperity, we are this day assembled to 
pay our tribute of respect to departed heroes, who 
wrote in the ensanguined field and sealed with blood, 
the richest legacy which man ever bequeathed to his 
fellow man— civil and religious Liberty. 

The commemoration of great events in the history 
of nations, is not of modern origin or artificial inven- 
tion, but arises from one of the most ennobling char- 
acteristics of the human race, gratitude to benefac- 
tors. And if it be true, that deeds of benevolence 
have sometimes been requited with evil, the truth of 
the assertion is no less evident. If it be true, that the 
frozen serpent, when warmed into life by the bosom 
of the unwary traveler, repaid its benefactor with a 
mortal wound from its envenomed fang, it is equally 
true, that it was a serpent. We wish not to review 
the lives of a few, w r ho have proved traitors to the 
best principles of their nature, traitors to the dearest 
rights of their race. Let their names perish in obliv- 
ion ; for if they live, they will live upon the page of 
infamy; if they survive the ruin of their nefarious 
schemes, they must survive the blessings of man- 
kind. 

Yet, if our country has been the birth place of a 
few, whose history will be beacons to warn us of the 
rocks and quicksands which inevitably wreck the 



150 INKLINGS. 

hopes of unbridled ambition, it has been the father 
of a host, whose names will be associated with bra- 
very and virtue, whose names will form a galaxy in 
the history of Liberty. They need no sculptor's 
hand to insure their immortality ; no monuments of 
art to record their praise ; no trophies of the battle- 
field to perpetuate their fame. Let the Granicus and 
Arbela declare the invincible valor of Alexander, 
while the hearts of millions of freemen, speak the un- 
assuming worth of Washington. Washington yet 
lives, and till benefactors are forgotten, his name will 
live in the memory of freemen ; as long as the star- 
spangled banner shall wave in triumph in the breeze, 
his luster will be as imperishable as the glittering 
hosts which deck the canopy of earth. 

But not to Washington alone, belongs the glory of 
achieving a nation's Independence. In that cata- 
logue, upon which the Father of his country stands 
pre-eminently conspicuous, are those whose talents 
would have been an ornament to Rome, when con- 
tending for the empire of the world ; and whose valor 
may be compared with Spartan bravery, when Spar- 
tan was but another name for heroism. The Patri- 
ots of the American Revolution, in exalted sentiments 
of man's inalienable rights, in decision, in action, cor- 
responding with the firmness of their principles, are 
perhaps without a parallel in the history of four thou- 
sand years. 

Greece, " the land of scholars and the nurse of 
arms, 75 presents in classic style her deeds of noble 



INKLINGS. 151 

daring, for the admiration of succeeding ages. The 
achievements of her warriors and generals have been 
a theme of eulogy, from the days of Roman grandeur, 
to the present time. The struggles which encircled 
her with a halo of glory, can never be obliterated 
from the records of human events ; for when was the 
bosom of the green earth pressed by an army of three 
millions, except in the invasion of Greece by Xerxes 
with his Persian legions? He was the most power- 
ful of monarchs, in the extent of his dominions, and 
in the unlimited power with which he ruled them. 
His predecessors had conquered all the neighboring 
provinces, and left for his inheritance, an empire em- 
bracing every variety of climate and production. 
Few would have been discontented with such an in- 
heritance as this ; none, but those restless, turbulent 
. spirits, whose ambition knows no bounds. He sum- 
moned his com tiers and declared his intention of in- 
vading Greece. His ancestors were renowned for 
martial exploits ; he too, was more desirous of being 
known as a conqueror, than a peaceful monarch. 
The command was given for his forces to assemble 
at the Hellespont, which separates Asia from Europe. 
Every province furnished its supplies, and Xerxes, 
from a throne erected upon an eminence, beheld the 
plains around him, filled with the millions of his fol- 
lowers. For a moment the kinder feelings of his na- 
ture took possession of his heart. He paused, as did 
Caesar upon the banks of the Rubicon, which separa- 
ted his province from the Roman empire ; he paused. 



152 INKLINGS. 

as does the assassin 3 to repress the involuntary shud- 
der, which for a moment shakes the firmness of his 
purpose. 

But different were the feelings which fixed the 
firm resolve, and nerved the sinewy arm of the sons 
of Greece. Their country, their altars and their 
homes, were worthy of a noble sacrifice ; and they 
prepared to avert the destruction which threatened 
them from a cruel invader. Leonidas, the Spartan 
king marched to oppose the progress of the common 
enemy. Advancing to Thermopylae, a narrow defile 
between two mountains, and the entrance into Greece, 
with three hundred of his countrymen he awaited the 
approach of the Persian army. Xerxes advanced 
and commanded him to surrender his arms. He re- 
plied with laconic brevity, come and take them. He 
resolved there to immolate himself and comrades to 
the cause of Grecian liberty. There he and his brave 
followers fell, contending against an army whose ar- 
rows clouded the noon-day splendor of the sun. 

We should admire the patriotism and bravery 
which lead to the sacrifice of self upon the country's 
altar. The philanthropy wiiich prompts it, demands 
our esteem ; the deed we may revere or pity, accord- 
ing to the wisdom or folly of its execution. And it 
is as difficult to compare the actions of men, as the 
different countries of the globe. The soil and sur- 
face, the climate and productions, the manufactures 
and commerce, should be considered. In these par- 
ticulars they may widely differ, yet each may be es- 



INKLINGS. 153 

teemed for its own peculiarities. And in examining 
the claims to real greatness, the attending circum- 
stances should not be forgotten ; the character and 
motives of the men, the customs and condition of the 
country, the object and power of the enemy. In the 
history of our country, we find all these so happily 
combined, as to extort even from opponents, an invol- 
untary tribute of respect. The sufferings which 
were endured in its first settlement, are such as ex- 
cite our pity, while they elicit our admiration ; such 
as are rarely found, in the history of ancient or mod- 
ern times. And be it remembered, all these were 
willingly endured for liberty of conscience. Our an- 
cestors fled from European persecution, to seek in the 
wild woods of America, a home for the oppressed, an 
asylum for the exile ; where their orisons and an- 
thems might ascend to their common Parent, untram- 
meled by the laws of kings. The wide Atlantic rol- 
led between them and the scenes of their childhood, 
the homes of their youth, their kindred and their 
country. Around them was one interminable wilder- 
ness, in whose dark recesses were heard the prowling 
of the panther, and the war-whoop of the savage. 
Disease and famine were their visitants, and more to 
be feared than these, were the merciless foes which 
surrounded them. Time could not abate their mal- 
ice, dangers never could deter them from the prose- 
cution of revenge. Amid the peaceful labors of the 
field, from the neighboring thicket was heard the re- 
port of the Indian's unerring rifle ; the weary laborer 



154 INKLINGS. 

was roused at midnight to witness the death of kin- 
dred, or sink beneath the tomahawk ; even the sa- 
credness of the sanctuary, was no barrier against sav- 
age incursions. With such dangers to encounter, a 
rapid increase of population could not be expected. 
Yet they gradually increased in numbers and wealth. 
Within a few years from the settlement of Jamestown 
and the landing of the Pilgrims, numerous settle- 
ments were made upon the shores of the Atlantic. In- 
dustry soon furnished them all the comforts, and some 
of the luxuries of life. Their savage neighbors be- 
gan to respect the power which could destroy their 
warriors, and lay waste their villages. Bright pros- 
pects cheered the hearts of the colonists, like those 
which animate the buoyant spirits of a youth, when 
commencing upon the theater of life. 

But one dark cloud floated in the sky, that por- 
tended the gathering storm, which must burst upon 
them with the lightning's glare and the thunder's 
peal. England, proud and potent, assumed arbitrary 
power over the colonies. In the earlier periods of 
their history, they were too weak to dispute their 
rights with the Mistress of the ocean, and her ear was 
not always deaf to petition and remonstrance. In 
1764, instead of weak and defenceless settlements, 
they were a prosperous and happy part of the British 
domain. Unfortunately for England, a course was 
then commenced by the British parliament, which 
ended in severing the ties which bound them to the 
mother country. Unsatisfied with monopolizing the 



INKLINGS. 155 

commerce of American products, a duty was imposed 
upon articles imported from foreign countries. It was 
asserted by those who opposed this measure, that 
taxation and representation are inseparable ; a truth 
which has since become an axiom in politics. But 
power too often rules the voice of reason, and Eng- 
land without changing her policy, passed the ensu- 
ing year the famous Stamp Act. Following this, 
was the duty upon tea ; and to check the spirit of 
opposition, it was enacted, that those who might be 
guilty of treason, should be transported to England 
for trial. Other laws, equally unjust, hastened the 
approaching crisis, It soon became evident, that 
British aggression would be resisted by force of arms; 
and preparations were made on both sides, to meet 
the exigency. Lexington was the opening scene of 
the great drama. * Eight hundred British grenadiers 
were sent to Concord, to destroy the military stores 
of the insurgents. Passing through Lexington, they 
found seventy citizens peaceably assembled for mili- 
tary exercise. They were commanded to lay down 
their arms and disperse. Eight hundred, well armed, 
well disciplined militia were before them to enforce 
the command, and although their own number was 
but seventy, without discipline and without leaders, 
they defied the power of a veteran battalion. 

It is natural to pause and inquire, if such daring 
was the result of love of Liberty alone ; if it was not 
the effect of long cherished hatred which sought re- 
venge in the effusion of blood, or the consequence of 



156 INKLINGS. 

an oppression, so severe, that resistance was prefera- 
ble to submission. Nothing of this kind could have 
sullied the purity of their motives. Notwithstanding 
their grievances, they had viewed England with feel- 
ings like those which children cherish for a mother's 
fondness ; nor were they so oppressed, that resistance 
had become an imperative necessity. They were 
not unable to pay the trifling sum of three pence per 
pound upon their beverage ; yet they would not do it, 
so long as it involved the question of their Liberty. 
They resolved to obtain their freedom, or perish in 
the attempt. They met superior numbers and oppos- 
ed them till forced to retreat, and then withdrew to 
preserve their lives for the furtherance of a cause, 
more dear to them than life itself. 

Leonidas was brave and patriotic ; but there were 
many considerations to stimulate his patriotism. He 
contended against a nation with a different lan- 
guage, and different customs. He fought for a 
crown, and to escape the everlasting contempt of 
his countrymen. He opposed an enemy, which, if 
victorious, would have bound him like a slave to 
the triumphal chariot of the Persian monarch. When 
all the attending circumstances are considered, we 
must admit, that the dazzling splendor of the achieve- 
ment at Thermopylae, is eclipsed by the moral sub- 
limity of the fray at Lexington. 

A few yet remain, among us, to relate the labors 
and dangers, the determined resistance and the 
splendid victories of the revolutionary conflict. There 



INKLINGS. 157 

are a few in this assembly, whose minds may con- 
template, in the scenes of their youth, the achieve- 
ments known by others from the pages of history. A 
kind Providence has been your shield in the hour of 
danger, and prolonged your existence to participate 
in the sixty-fourth anniversary of ximerican Indepen- 
dence. To greet you with a hearty welcome, in the 
name of those here assembled, is a part of this day's 
duties. And if the best wishes of others can soothe 
the sorrows of declining years, be assured you have a 
nation's gratitude, be assured you have our warmest 
sympathies. And when the bugle's notes shall cease 
to echo in your ears, when the scenes of other times 
shall no longer flit in fancy, when the last revolution 
of time shall be accomplished, may you be hailed 
welcome on the shores of deliverance from toil and 
.pain, and shout victory under the banners of the 
Prince of Peace. 



TEMPERANCE. 



The general rules by which man's conduct is reg- 
ulated, the effect of early impressions and circum- 
stances upon his condition, and the influence of es- 
tablished habits over his happiness, are taught by the 
pages of the faithful historian. Here may be seen the 
course which he pursues, in view of all the various 
and conflicting circumstances, in which it is possible 
8 



158 INKLINGS. 

to place him. Here may be seen the sad consequen- 
ces of unrestrained passions, and the despotic tyran- 
ny of ungovernable appetites. And here too, maybe 
seen the same causes which operate upon individual 
enterprise and prosperity, upon a more extended 
scale, overthrowing the fabrics and demolishing the 
very foundations of ancient grandeur and glory. If 
history be not so agreeable as fancy sketches, it is 
profitable frequently to review its lessons ; and it 
would be well for us, and well for our country, to 
profit by the experience of former times. 

In tracing the causes which have been most active 
in the destruction of individual enterprise, and in the 
decline and fall of nations and empires, three have 
united to overthrow man's prosperity and happiness. 
The triple-edged sword, which has done more per- 
haps, than all other causes combined, to make the 
world emphatically " a Tale of tears," is a bloody 
weapon which has been wielded by the foe of man, 
for more than four thousand years. It has been en- 
gaged in all the wars which have agitated the world, 
and in every strife which has disturbed the peace of 
communities and neighborhoods. It is at this mo- 
ment active as ever, in drinking the life-blood of its 
victims, and wounding beyond hope of recovery, 
those who are not provided with a new-invented 
shield, the only cuirass which can safely guard the 
bosom from its dangerous assaults. It may be com- 
pared to the images of the gods, having three faces 
and one body. The heads may be named avarice, 



ITSKLINGS. 159 

ambition, and intemperance ; but the body belongs 
exclusively to the latter. It would not be difficult to 
show, that the three are different modifications of 
one and the same thing ; that avarice is an intem- 
perate love of gold, and ambition an intemperate 
thirst for power ; but the sensual appetites alone, 
have done more than the power of man can compute, 
in the destruction of property, character and intellect, 
and in blighting the fairest hopes which the imagi- 
nation can portray. 

What made Alexander the great, so famous for his 
military achievements, the disgrace of the age in 
which he lived? He was a valiant and ambitious 
youth, and placed in circumstances to follow his in- 
clinations, he subdued the Persian empire, and 
marched his victorious armies against nations and re- 
gions hitherto unknown ; but he who had shielded 
himself from the arrows of the barbarians, found in 
his own ungovernable appetites, a foe more subtle 
than the Persian or Hindoo, and fell a sacrifice to his 
own unrestrained licentiousness, while in the ardor 
of youth, and fondly dreaming of future accessions to 
his renown. 

What made the name of Pericles an epoch in the 
history of Athens ? He left the Athenians in the 
midst of wealth and splendor, and yet from Pericles 
is dated the commencement of a decline, which end- 
ed in the destruction of her national existence. Read 
the history of his sumptuous entertainments, his 
splendid feasts with sideboards sparkling with costly 



160 INKLINGS. 

wine, and there you may learn the commencement 
of her decline, while her public monuments present- 
ed an external appearance of prosperity. 

Rome, once the proud mistress of the civilized 
world, whose eagle waved in triumph over the most 
fertile plains of Europe, Asia and Africa, now stands 
like a beacon light, to warn modem nations of the 
rock and whirlpool of her own destruction. When 
indolence and luxury were her leading characteris- 
tics, she became an easy prey to the ruthless inva- 
der. When mercenaries performed the duties of the 
Roman soldier, and the citizens yielded their time to 
the pleasures of the theater and the sensualities of 
midnight revels, her patriotism departed ; and civil 
dissensions paved the way for an easy conquest. 
The vines which grew upon the sunny plains of Ita- 
ly, supplied cheer for the banquets which unnerved 
the arm of the Roman soldier ; and at the same time 
furnished a beverage for the Goth and Vandal, which 
excited them on to plunder and conquest. 



ENVY. 



We admire the nobler characteristics of our nature. 
They are something upon which the poet and philos- 
opher have ever dwelt with peculiar pleasure. They 
have always been the favorite theme of song and dec- 



INKLINGS, 161 

lamation. And surely benevolence, beneficence and 
charity can never be extolled beyond their worth, for 
they are the chain which binds society together, the 
luminaries which cast a ray of sunshine over scenes 
darkened by the prevalence of baser passions. Yet, 
as much as we admire them, and gladly as we would 
linger upon their loveliness, the compound mixture of 
human nature makes it painfully necessary to attend 
to those viler propensities, which sow the seed of dis- 
cord and contention. And we would do it without 
exaggeration, and with all becoming charity ; for 
without charity, while man is imperfect, harmony 
can never long exist. 

The list of those propensities which have been the 
bane of earthly bliss, is long and dark ; and the num- 
ber of crimes and villainies which it has prompted, is 
without computation. But upon this black catalogue, 
as its great progenitor, one stands conspicuously pre- 
eminent. Its history is much of the history of the 
world, for its office is to wither and destroy, and the 
blighting of its breath is like the scourging pestilence. 
Were its work confined to the aspiring and adventu- 
rous alone, we should little regret its ruthless havoc ; 
but if man have compassion, he will feel it when En- 
vy triumphs over innocence. It commenced its un- 
envied task at creation's dawn, and thence through 
the winding course of time down to the present, its 
victims are innumerable. Abel was the first who fell 
its sacrifice. His unnatural brother must rise and 
slay, because his purer heart deserved superior favor ; 



162 INKLINGS. 

and slavery and exile were the best requitals which 
Joseph found for his tender solicitude for his breth- 
ren. It may not be necessary to enumerate past oc- 
currences familiar to us all. The present state of 
society presents enough for us to ponder, for. in the 
long lapse of ages, if knowledge has been progressive, 
it has been in vice, as well as virtue ; and when we 
compare man now, with man in his primeval inno- 
cence, the greatness of the contrast almost bewilders 
us. Time was when he was innocent, and then pro- 
pitious Heaven smiled on all around him. He in- 
haled delight from the very air he breathed, laden 
with the richest odors. He quenched his thirst at 
perennial fountains whose enlivening draughts were 
grateful to his taste. He walked through "alleys 
green and flowery arbors," by streams whose gentle 
murmurs were music to his ear. He plucked the 
fruit which his kind Author had profusely lavished in 
his way, and with his fair consort meekly bowed, as 
he beheld the lovely impress of Divinity stamped on 
all around him. But now, how changed ! What 
pains and sorrows has a single sin brought upon our 
fallen race ! Instead of love, gratitude and adora- 
tion, and their offspring, peace and harmony, we now 
see Envy and strife, and the long list of evils in their 
train. Instead of seeking happiness in those pure 
sources from which alone it flows, "our being's end 
and aim/' is sought in wealth, in honor and renown, 
in courting danger and despising toil, to gain some 



INKLINGS. 163 

lofty eminence, where to repose beyond the reach of 
equals. 

The present state of society, so widely different 
from primeval innocence, can not be attributed to any 
single, predominating vice. It is deeply rooted in the 
natural selfishness of the human heart. But if there 
be any one, to which a principal share may be as- 
cribed, that one is Envy. We see its influence in 
every grade of society, and in every situation of life. 
It often mingles with feelings and inclinations which 
assume another name. The desire of gain is stimu- 
lated by envying the possessions of others, and fame 
is coveted lor the dazzling splendor which it bestows 
upon others who possess it. Nor is it confined to 
great pursuits in the higher walks of life. It mingles 
with feelings of a kindred character in every employ- 
ment. The farmer observes the superiority of his 
rival farmer, in their honorable occupation. He sees 
his fields yield a more plenteous harvest than his own, 
and resolves another year to be more vigilant, al- 
though this has produced a competence. This emu- 
lation, so common among all classes, may be a great 
benefit to society ; yet that it partakes largely of En- 
vy, is too obvious to need a demonstration. 

But its effects elsewhere must be seen as a ruling 
principle, for then it shuns all honorable rivalry, and 
looking with a troubled eye upon worth, is only con- 
tent with tarnishing all that is bright, and clouding 
all that is fair. It veils its nefarious designs under 



164 INKLINGS. 

pretence of charity and good-will, and while the com- 
munity at large give credence to the dissembler, mi- 
nute observers may discover the baseness which lies 
concealed within the honest pretensions of a polished 
exterior. It speaks of the purity of its own motives 
and intentions, and declares in borrowed phrase its 
philanthropy and patriotism. It seeks to depress oth- 
ers, as the surest way to elevate itself, and grieves 
that any are free from its own contaminating pollu- 
tions. 



COME TO MY BOWER ! 



Come to my bower ! 
Curtained with azure skies, 
And graced with tints of rainbow hues, 
It is perfumed with sweet wild-flowery 
Refreshed with heaven's own dews. 
The moss-clad hillock seems to say, 
Recline upon my bosom \ 
The warbling birds invite to stay. 
And breath of fragrant blossoms. 



INKLINGS. 165 

Give care away to the sighing breeze, 
Which moves the leaves of shadowing trees, 
And fans the fevered brow of care ; 
And whispers of a world that's fair, 
Where clouds never lower, 
Above my wild- wood bower ; 
Come to my bower ! 
8* 



CHAPTER XIV 



OBLIGATIONS OF AMERICAN YOUTH. 



When we look around us and behold the happy 
condition of our country, the success which has at- 
tended its enterprises, and. the general prosperity 
which prevails through its extensive dominions, there 
is a charm which mingles with the feelings of every 
American ; and the bosom is agitated with emotion, 
when we cantrast the present with the past, and hear 
recounted from the lips of the veteran, the tragic 
scenes which obtained our freedom. Every class of 
citizens rejoices in reviewing the past and anticipating 
the future ; but none with more enthusiasm, than the 
youth of this republic. The past presents them 
scenes which they are proud to contemplate — scenes 
of toil and danger, I had almost said, without a par- 
allel. A few years since, and what may now be call- 



INKLINGS, 167 

ed a powerful republic, was an infant colony, driven 
by the persecutions of the old world from the land of 
its nativity and the comforts of civilized life, to the 
gloomy shores west of the Atlantic, whose only inl 
itant was the merciless savage. Few we denominate 
men, would purchase even liberty and all its ble 
ings, with so much expense. But they were inured 
to hardship, and no danger or privation could appall 
them, when an unfettered conscience was the recom- 
pense. They prized liberty as the greatest boon 
which heaven could bestow ; and while they were 
securing for themselves its blessings, they were con- 
scious of laying the foundation for the prosperity and 
happiness of future generations, which would yet 
arise and call them blessed. These were the princi- 
ples of our ancestors ; and the zeal which they in- 
spired, prepared them to meet every danger, and kept 
* their hopes from sinking amid their sufferings and 
distresses, when famine and misery were their com- 
panions, when the aborigines of the country were 
manifesting their malice by marking their way with 
conflagration and slaughter, and when the mother 
country waged a cruel and unjust war against their 
feeble numbers. 

Such was the character of the venerable ancestors 
of American youth. They were hardy, intelligent, 
and enterprising, jealous of their rights, and ever ea- 
ger to protect them from the incursions of despotism. 
After a long and bloody conflict, they succeeded in 
establishing a government upon the principle of equal 



168 INKLINGS. 

rights, in which the people are their own rulers. 
More than half a century has proved its wisdom and 
firmness, and the youth of the present day are enjoy- 
ing the benefits of a well regulated republic. It has 
encouraged and supported schools, where all may ac- 
quire sufficient knowledge to prepare them for the 
busy scenes of life, and Academies and Colleges, 
where few are necessarily deprived of a classical 
education. It has done much for the general diffu- 
sion of knowledge, and for making all classes intelli- 
gent, enterprising and happy. The young, surround- 
ed with every inducement to call forth their energies, 
and a certain prospect of success, as the reward of 
perseverance, have brighter visions of the future, than 
the youth of any other country. They can be, with 
few exceptions, whatever they resolve to be. If their 
aim be elevated and noble, their zeal untiring in the 
pursuit of knowledge, and their determination un- 
wavering to merit the laurels which encircle the 
brow of worth and virtue, it is an axiom in this coun- 
try, that they will be successful. Too many have 
succeeded before them, to leave a doubt to damp their 
lor. Professions of every character have been fill- 
by those, who, in other countries, could never think 
aspiring so high ; and our halls of legislation have 
echoed with the eloquence of the self-created, who 
have arisen from obscurity, to assist in guiding our 
nation's destiny. 

There is nothing in the way of the youth of this 
country, but a few impediments that nature has 



INKLINGS 169 

placed there, which needlessly blight the fair prospects 
of too many, who otherwise might have enrolled their 
names highest upon, the list of fame. Too many 
have sacrificed upon the altar of appetite and pas- 
sion, their character and virtue, and have fallen vic- 
tims to intemperance and debauchery. Fair hopes 
of future greatness have often been wrecked, and dis- 
appointment and despair have administered bitter 
draughts of consolation, to those who so far lost self- 
control, as to be unable to reform. The season of 
youth is truly called the most perilous of a man's 
whole existence. It is then the character is formed, 
and that impress stamped upon it, which usually de- 
cides its possessor's career through subsequent life* 
If the vices and follies which surround the young 
and continually solicit an adoption, be not checked 
while in embryo, the happiness of the future will be 
clouded by ungovernable appetites and malignant 
passions. Habits are established which in after life 
are a source of pleasure or pain, according to the 
wisdom or folly ot the choice. But the importance 
of this period, its influence upon the future station in 
society, and the obligations it imposes upon the 
young, can not be shown more clearly, than by view- 
ing it as the time when the occupation for life is cho- 
sen. This consideration alone, would make this pe- 
riod an important one in the history of many men, 
for their character in future depends principally upon 
the decision. The choice of associates is closely con- 
nected by its influence and Importance, with that of 



170 INKLINGS. 

an occupation. There have been many wise sayings 
written for the instruction of the young upon this 
point, and one which should never be forgotten, re- 
minds them that their character is known by their 
company. If they prefer the vile and vicious, their 
character will be judged as such, and their standing 
in society will rank with that of their companions; 
but if they seek the wise and virtuous, experience 
will prove to them, that genuine merit can be appre- 
ciated. 

The barriers which oppose the progress of the 
young, when met with firmness, are far from being 
impassable ; when not opposed with resolution, with- 
er the brightest hopes which animate the bosom. 
The wreck of geriius and talent should warn and 
prepare them for the hour of temptation, and the nu- 
merous examples of success and triumph by which 
they are surrounded, should urge them onward. 
They will soon step forth upon the theater of action, 
to fill the places which will then be vacant. They 
will soon possess the wealth and influence, and con- 
trol the scenes which are now in other hands. Those 
who now fill the most important stations and direct 
our national affairs, have reached their zenith, and 
are declining, to give place to another generation. 
They will soon retire from the scenes in which they 
now participate, and their country's interests which 
they have guarded, and the offices which they have 
discharged, from the lowest to the highest, will be 
committed to those who are now in the morning of 



INKLINGS. 171 

life. It requires but little reflection to prove, that 
most weighty obligations rest upon the young, and 
demand of them suitable qualifications to fill with 
honor the stations they are destined to occupy. Who 
can tell the wisdom and integrity which may be re- 
quired to guard our institutions? Enough has al- 
ready been seen, to moderate the confidence of the 
prudent, in our perfect security. Unbounded ambi- 
tion may yet find its way to the helm of government, 
may seek to overthrow our liberty and veil our fair 
prospects in midnight gloom. But our freedom will 
remain as unshaken as the glory of its founders has 
untarnished, if the young improve their unparalleled 
advantages for acquiring knowledge, and imitate the 
virtue, patriotism, and heroic fortitude of their ances- 
tors, who, by their deeds of noble greatness, have 
made their names a legacy to future generations. 
' And if our country now stands high in the estimation 
of surrounding nations, before those who will soon 
be actors in life's drama shall have left the stage for 
their successors, it may surpass the loftiest conception 
of the statesmen who placed a firm foundation for the 
glorious superstructure. 



ECONOMY. 



The careful observer of men, with their manners 
and customs, will find much to amuse and instruct 



172 INKLINGS. 

him in human nature. So great a variety is present- 
ed to his view, that it requires in no small degree, 
acuteness of perception, to discern the incentives or 
motives which are the propelling powers of action. 
There is an apparent contradiction in many actions, 
if we ascribe to them a particular cause. But there 
are many, who, in one respect, perhaps, more than in 
any other, appear to have laid aside reason and judg- 
ment, and the nobler faculties with which they are 
endowed. The most careless observer might pro- 
nounce with certainty the passions which they cher- 
ish, the feelings they seek to gratify. They wrongly 
estimate the glittering thousands they possess, and 
manifest as much pleasure in squandering them, as 
misers do, in gathering a shining heap for others to 
enjoy. This world's goods were given to be used as 
reason dictates, not to gratify the base passion ava- 
rice, nor to be squandered in a prodigality which can 
not add to our happiness : they were given to us for 
nobler purposes, and would be much better employed 
in bestowing charity upon the destitute. Few under- 
stand the right purposes to which money should be 
applied, and those few may with propriety be termed 
economists. The extremes which injure or destroy 
the happiness of the miser and spendthrift, are way- 
marks which guide them in the right direction. They 
prize what they possess sufficiently to be frugal and 
industrious, without making it the sole object of their 
care, or esteeming it worthy of adoration. Happy is 
the man whose passions are restrained by deliberate 



INKLINGS. 173 

reason, in disposing of the goods which fortune has 
placed in his hands. 



MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. 



The present is an age remarkable for discoveries 
and improvements, not in any one department of hu- 
man enterprise, but in all the various callings which 
men pursue. The patents and labor-saving ma- 
chines which have been invented within a quarter of 
a century, are almost numberless. Various depart- 
ments of science have, through the penetrating in- 
vestigation of the present age, been brought to a much 
greater state of perfection, than formerly was known, 
Subjects intricate and abstruse, have been found to be 
based upon a few, simple, elementary principles, and 
hence their investigation requires less time and pro- 
duces more pleasure. But there are fields which the 
most sagacious have endeavored to explore, without 
success. Some, indeed, profess to have made impor- 
tant discoveries in them, but their plans being imprac- 
ticable, are viewed as chimerical schemes. Yet, not- 
withstanding former failures, who can doubt that this 
age, in which blind prejudice and superstition, are to 
bid the world an everlasting farewell, in which men 
are not influenced in their belief upon a subject by 
their more illiterate ancestors, but by the results of 
deep-searching investigation ; who can doubt, that 



1 74 INKLINGS. 

such an age will produce geniuses who will be able 
to overcome every obstacle in exploring these untried 
paths. 

We may look forward with sanguine hope to the 
time as not far distant, when some modern genius, 
whose ilame will be transmitted to posterity with un- 
tarnished fame, may discover a motion which can be 
made perpetual with less expense than the celebrated 
invention which was made to move with a crank in 
the cellar, secret wires communicating the motion to 
machinery above. And in the onward march of 
chemical knowledge, some prodigy may arise with 
investigation wonderfully developed upon his crani- 
um, who will enrich the whole world by discovering 
a simple process for changing unsightly charcoal to 
glittering diamonds. Those who are so happy as to 
live in the present age of light and knowledge, may 
see steam disused, as applied to mechanical purposes 
and navigation, and the stately ship, propelled by the 
superior power of electricity or attraction, without 
suffering the danger of bursting boilers, or the incon- 
venience of loading with fuel at every port. Then 
will the name of Fulton be forgotten, and there will 

be recorded in flaming characters, the Hon. . 

I leave a blank to be filled out after the discoverv. 



INKLINGS. 175 



CONTENTMENT. 



Among the many rules which have been given by 
the wise in different ages, for advancing the happi- 
ness of man, there is one, which has been universal- 
ly adopted in theory, but almost wholly disregarded 
in practice. The sentiment it contains has been so 
long and so generally admitted as true, that it might 
perhaps with some propriety be called a proverb, if 
there be any particular distinction in the terms ; but 
be that as it may, its well known name is content- 
ment. This rule maintains that contentment is feli- 
city, and that all who wish to be happy, have only to 
1 bound their wishes by their power to gratify them. 
If this be true, it is a much better wav for men to ob- 
tain their object, for the grand object of all is happi- 
ness, than the various methods so eagerly pursued, 
by most men. It is not the lot of all who seek 
wealth, to obtain it ; and the few who accomplish 
their purpose, prove by experience the unsatisfying 
nature of the reality, which disappoints their expect- 
ations. The same may be said of honor, and the 
long train of pursuits which occupies the attention 
of a large majority of men. If then, it be true, that 
men who seek enjoyment in pomp and glitter, and an 
undue attention to trifles which furnish employment 
for many, may not only be baffled in pursuit, but will 



176 INKLINGS. 

surely be disappointed in their pleasures, even when 
successful ; it will follow, that every one should seek 
contentment, because it may be obtained, and will 
satisfy an innate thirst for rational enjoyment, 

DEPENDENCE. 



Although man's happiness may be said to depend 
principally upon himself, yet in his intercourse with 
others, it will depend very much upon the character 
of his associates. We are mutually dependent upon 
each other for a thousand comforts and convenien- 
ces. The inhabitants of the temperate zone are de- 
pendent upon the torrid, for their spices, and many 
articles of luxury ; and those of the latter are de- 
pendent upon the former. If the people of one zone 
should say, they would have no intercourse with 
those of another, they might deprive them of coffee 
and other luxuries, but at the same time would de- 
prive themselves of ice to cool their own beverage, 
as great a luxury to them, as coffee to the others. 

We are not only dependent as inhabitants of a par- 
ticular climate, but we are also dependent as mem- 
bers of the same civil compact. Our dependence 
here is very great, and the only lawful source of gov- 
ernment. Without government, a man's life may 
depend upon the will of his neighbor, for the strong 



INKLINGS. 177 

may destroy the weak, and escape the punishment 
inflicted by law. Hence the original object of gov- 
ernment, is to protect the weak against the encroach- 
ments of the strong. By. the strong arm of the law 
we are made secure in our persons and property, and 
this strong arm derives its strength from our mutual 
consent to be guided by the same rule of conduct. 

But there is another kind of dependence which we 
feel perhaps more sensibly than any other, because it 
is more intimate and obvious. It is the dependence 
upon those with whom we associate. This is not a 
dependence which affects one's life or property, but 
may be as intimately connected with his happiness. 
To illustrate this idea, it will be necessary to take ex- 
amples from the common condition of members of 
society ; for it is difficult to contemplate man without 
life or property, and almost impossible to conceive his 
condition without associates. It will be necessary to 
remember likewise, that his happiness in this life only 
is considered, and is considered upon the principle 
that life is not a blessing, if the amount of happiness 
is overbalanced by the amount of misery. Upon 
these premises, I think it may be proved, that man's 
happiness depends more upon friends and associates, 
than upon life and property; for the simple posses- 
sion of life and property, has no more connection 
with happiness, as I conceive, than a piece of blank 
paper with a composition. A composition may be 
written upon the one, with a hand to write and a 
head to conceive ; and happiness may be made to 



178 INKLINGS. 

proceed from the others, by intellectual culture arid 
friendly intercouse with associates. "Whether this 
point has been established or not, one thing, at least, 
is obvious ; that our happiness depends very much 
upon the acquirements and goodness of those with 
whom we associate. 



THE CLASSICS. 



In proceeding to the investigation of this subject, it 
may be necessary to notice what the objects of edu- 
cation are, or what they should be, for they may vary 
widely with different individuals. It is generally 
conceded, that they should be, a cultivation of the 
morals, an expansion of the intellect, and an ac- 
quaintance with human nature. These three partic- 
lars should be remembered in the discussion of this 
question, and remembered as directly connected with 
the study of the classics. Their influence upon the 
morals may vary with individuals, but could not be 
recommended, as a code of morals. Their fabled 
gods, goddesses, heroes and nymphs, are possessed of 
the greatest virtues, which are spontaneous produc- 
tions of the heart, guided by human precepts ; but 
they often border upon the neighboring vices, and 
their manly virtues are tarnished by the greatest im- 
proprieties, with no other excuse than the gratifica- 
tion of some favorite passion. 



INKLINGS 179 

Man is greatly influenced "by what ho sees and 

hears. He reads a touching description of misfor- 
tune and distress; and his heart softens with sympa- 
thy. He reads a graphic delineation of shipwreck 
and disaster, of a hero's undaunted courage, and his 
fearless grappling with contending difficulties, and 
feels that he has the muscles of a hero. He hears 
described in soothing numbers. Dido's unconquerable 
passion, and may wish the kingly grace to captivate. 
He sees champions go forth to glorious combat, the 
strong and brave fall beneath their sturdy strokes. 
and although he would not slay a fellow, yet for a 
moment he may wish to be a victor. The reader, if 
he reads understandingly and with interest, is in some 
danger of imbibing too much the spirit of the text. 
His scenery is gilded chariots and splendid palaces. 
his companions are heroes superior to their trappings : 
and it may require an eriort of his judgment to break 
the spell of his fancy and convince him. that he lives 
in a world, the dim reflection of his ideal one. But 
he may admire the admirable, forget the weakness, 
reject the fiction, and be thankful that his belief is 
not founded upon the speculations of the imagina- 
tion. 

The cultivation of the mind is of no small impor- 
tance in the investigation of this subject, and in this 
particular, the classics possess decidedly superior ad- 
vantages. The quickness of perception and acute 
discrimination which they require, are admirably cal- 
culated to strengthen the judgment. The correct trans- 



180 INKLINGS. 

• 

lation of a single passage, requires the recollection of 
many principles which must be applied, each in its 
proper place. They teach the scholar not to decide 
until he has attended to all the minute circumstances 
which have a bearing upon the subject, for often the 
least negligence will change the meaning of a whole 
passage ; and the habits which he thus forms will 
enable him to judge of men and actions, with a de- 
gree of accuracy approaching to infallibility. 

The study of the classics also prepares him to un- 
derstand the passions, the inclinations and the weak- 
nesses of men. Their authors were men acquainted 
with human nature, and the causes which prompt the 
actions of most men. Their peculiar situation made 
them observe the ingredients of the most curious com- 
pound in nature, their own incomprehensible selves ; 
for they were so situated, that with sufficient skill, 
they could move a nation by their oratory ; and the 
knowledge and ingenuity displayed in their produc- 
tions, are indubitable evidence of the master spirits 
which produced them. 



INKLINGS. 181 



A DREAM. 



I had a dream, be not surprised, 

For all do have their dreams ; 
I dreamed that I was floating down 

The pleasant, quiet streams 
Of land where florets drooping round, 

Their sweetest fragrance breathe, 
And on each little, green hill-side, 

Their honored chaplets wreathe. 

From brake to bush, from shrub to flower. 

The insects of the land 
Had woven veils of gossamer, 

Around on every hand. 
The gentle breeze betrayed its source 

And dalliance with the rose, 
And whispered notes of music forth, 

Which mortal never knows. 

No noontide glare of light was there, 

Shade softening into shade, 
Seemed part of objects which it formed, 

And doubled as it made. 
All bright and fair, that land was there, 

Bird answered bird in song. 



182 INKLINGS. 

And cliff and dell with mimic tongue, 
The cadence sweet, prolong. 

That land was all a fairy land. 

No pain, no sorrow there } 
No laughter grating on the ear. 

So kindred near to care. 
The swift-winged spirits went and came, 

High through the upper air ; 
They passed, and they were seen no more, 

But left their radiance there, 

In harmony with all this land, 

A maiden too was there ; 
No flaming seraph of the skies, 

She was surpassing fair. 
Her form and air, her motion free, 

In unity combined 
To make this maiden something more 

Than can be well defined. 

She looked on others with a lore 

Transparent^ free and kind, 
And seemed to think herself a part 

Of the eternal Mind. 
Supernal power to her was given, 

All passions to confine \ 
Love's rosy wreath around the heart, 

At pleasure to entwine. 



INKLINGS. 183 

I gazed in wonder, mute and long. 

Upon this mortal form ; 
And thought of her when tempests lower. 

And fierce the wintry storm. 
No answering glance to me was given, 

The scene around was all 
"Within her view, more grand to see 

Than dome or lordly hall. 

Next, I approached in suppliant mood, 

With lowly bended knee ; 
Informed her of love deep within, 

She had inspired in me. 
She heard me, but she heeded not, 

The scene was in her eye ; 
No crimson blush, no kindling glance, 

No bosom for a sigh. 

The vision faded from my sight ; 

Its memory remains, 
To cheer, to bless, and to oppress, 

In pleasures and in pains. 
And deep this truth upon my mind, 

"Was graven and impressed 5 
Who seeks in others, bliss supreme, 

May seek and not be blest. 



CHAPTER XV. 



A EAINY DAY. 



Who has never seen a rainy day ? This question 
requires no direct answer, for the answer is implied 
in the question itself. Rainy days may be divided 
into two great classes, literal and figurative. The 
literal may be subdivided into a variety, almost equal 
to the number of flowers which some botanist has 
given, forty thousand ; leaving a great variety to 
blush unseen, and wither without even a name. But 
what is a rainy day ? Day, as distinguished from 
night, includes the time between the rising and set- 
ting of the sun, and rain is water descending from 
the clouds, sometimes slowly, and in small particles, 
sometimes swiftly, and in numberless drops filling 
the whole atmosphere, equal in diameter to the largest 
shot which sportsmen use for ducks and pigeons. It 
is fortunate for human bipeds, that those large drops 



INKLINGS. 185 

are made a liquid substance and with specific gravity- 
less than the metal referred to, otherwise the predic- 
tion of a certain Miller might have been accomplish^ 
ed before it was prognosticated. Dictionary defini- 
tions of words and phrases do not produce perfect 
satisfaction. We can see how the words are pro- 
nounced, and a few examples may be given to illus- 
trate their use, but they are given so much like a 
general's orders to his marshals and cohorts, that we 
feel relieved from restriction when we pass beyond 
their control. In some parts of the world it never 
rains. Some one says, it never rains in certain parts 
of Chili. It is often stated that there is no rain in 
Egypt. In these places, the moisture of the atmos- 
phere must be condensed by the coolness of the 
nights, and descend in the form of dew. This, with 
the overflowing of rivers from countries where it does 
rain, must furnish the necessary supply of water. In 
some countries, rain, clouds and fogs are prevailing 
characteristics through the varying year, and a day 
of gladdening sunshine must be valued like those 
angel visits, few and far between. There is a differ- 
ence between a rainy day and a thunder storm, either 
seldom terminating in the other. The storm often 
succeeds the morning, like sweet sixteen reclining 
upon the mossy bank of rivulet, tinkling over rocks 
and pebbles, and measuring with varying chime the 
pulse of Nature which throbs with universal pleas- 
ure. In the west, a single, dark cloud raises its head 
above the horizon, like some Titan of the ancients, 



186 INKLINGS. 

and looks frowningly around upon the scene. He 
soon raises head and shoulders above the line of vis- 
ion, and on flank and rear, his swarthy legions as- 
semble around this monarch of the storm. Over the 
impenetrable battlements can be seen squadrons with 
their leaders, in solid phalanx majestically wheeling to 
the right and left, and forming in the rear ; their long, 
dark outline, reminding of huge waves rolled up- 
ward to the shore; by Vulcan chained to mountains 
on the land. Slowly, by unseen hands their banners 
are unfurled, a pall to be spread over universal Na- 
ture. The hoarse, muttering thunder announces the 
approach of this terrible array. The quick,red glare 
of 1>he lightning flash, paints upon the banners of the 
storm, the emblem of its mission upon the earth. 
Flash answers flash as signal of the storm ; thunder 
echoes back the dismay of thunder. These armies 
of the sky sweep over the land, and man seems to 
escape from his insignificance alone. Nature again 
smiles ; a sad, sweet smile, soon to be changed to 
gayety and pleasure. 

This is very different from a rainy day. Some- 
times two or three days seem to pass in preparing for 
the coming event. Light, fleecy clouds pass through 
the sky, swift messengers, whose tidings we can only 
guess by their appearance. Hazy clouds seem sus- 
pended in the sky, woven into a thousand fantastic 
forms, or piled together in promiscuous confusion. 
The air seems changed, the moisture collected in the 
clouds above, leaving the air below, too light to float 



INKLINGS. 187 

away the smoke, which settles upon the ground. A 
general quiet seems to pervade all nature, and as you 
retire to rest for the night, with one lingering thought 
upon the past, in which a few regrets mingle with 
much self-complacency, hope breathes its confiding 
promises, that the future will weave the tangled web 
of affairs into some premium texture. Morning 
comes, and with it the pattering rain. You rub the 
eyes, and can scarcely believe the ears, and then 
thought wanders backward to the time when the 
rain-drops unconsciously mingled with a passing va- 
gary of lakes, rivers and fishing tackle. You try to 
penetrate beyond this point, but all is starless night ; 
the visions of the night have passed and left no ves- 
tige behind. The rain continues to descend, a gentle, 
confused murmur above, and as the light wind chan- 
ges, the drops come with their tap, tap, against the 
window. The rain will soon pass, is the next, con- 
soling thought, and if the wish is not father to the 
thought, perhaps the judgment is clouded by the 
weather. A dozen acquaintances within as many 
miles, are grouped in imagination ; where they were 
going, and what they will do, are questions which 
are answered in the most satisfactory way the cir- 
cumstances will admit. Determined to make the 
most of the present, you try to give a gusto to the 
dishes of the breakfast table. The coffee is superb, 
that is certain, and you taste two or three times to 
make yourself sure of the fact. The rain continues, 
not so powerful as before, it has declined into a regu- 



188 INKLINGS. 

lar drizzle ; but the streets, who would wish to fath- 
om them? Well, you can decide on the first thing 
you will do after the rain, write a letter or two, and 
then read something, any thing except a rainy day, 
you have enough of that, at present. 

That subject might be interesting on some pleasant 
day after the rain, but it is no sovereign balm to ap- 
ply to the present state of feelings. " If it rain before 
seven, it will cease before eleven," comes winding its 
way over the lumber piles of memory, and you won- 
der who made that old, corn cob, and sent it out to 
the world nick-named a proverb. You will soon find 
out how much he knew about it. The rain contin- 
ues, not a mist, nor a storm ; a regular, perpendicular 
rain. Not a dog is to be seen in the streets, and how 
you will get to the post-office, through the quacking 
of ducks and spluttering of geese, is a question not 
so important as the passage of the Alps, a question, 
however, of no small magnitude, involving personal 
comfort, and perhaps personal safety. Appetite for 
dinner is below par, and in small demand. It is very 
difficult to persuade yourself, that table comforts have 
a delicious flavor. Who would have thought yes- 
terday of such a rain ? There were some indications 
of a rain, you gave them a passing notice, attended 
to other things without thinking that such a rain 
would follow. And then, your umbrella is gone ; it 
is generally absent when you need it. The Consti- 
tution should be changed, so that men can have vest- 
ed rights in umbrellas. All that long afternoon the 



INKLINGS. 189 

rain continues, sometimes almost ceasing long enough 
to rub the rust from old hopes, and then increasing 
to the boundary line between a rain and storm. You 
wonder, if it rains in South America, the East Indies, 
all over the world ; and whether such rains may be 
necessary for orange groves, cinnamon and spices. 
If you have real property, perhaps you think of be- 
queathing to the public the sum necessary to cover 
with awning, a path from your house to the post- 
office, to be used by the people without fee or reward 
on every rainy day ; in pleasant weather, a three- 
cent toll-gate to be established for the purpose of re- 
minding them, that umbrellas should be brought into 
the confederacy with other property. You wonder 
what you will dream about the next time you retire 
for oblivious forgetfulness of this horrid world. You 
will please take this as a specimen of all rainy days, 
the number being too great to give each a particular 
description. 

The second class of rainy days has not yet been 
considered. The figurative rainy day has a meta- 
phorical signification closely connected with the lite- 
ral, its application being very plain and natural. A 
man has seen many a rainy day, when he has seen 
friends pass away, the corroding tooth of time leaving 
its furrows on their once manly forms, or stealthy 
disease plucking the bloom from their cheeks and 
planting haggard care upon the ruin it has made. 
Lingering sickness and fair prospects withered in the 
bud, may cloud the sunshine of the feelings, and 
9* 



190 INKLINGS. 

cause a rainy day cheered by no golden sunrise of 
the morrow. The contrast to all these rainy days, 
presents itself for our contemplation without a partic- 
ular description, and with an adieu to the whole sub- 
ject, we will travel onward. 



HABITS. 



Man has been called a bundle of habits. Bundles 
generally contain a variety of small "notions," of 
much more consequence to the owner, than to any 
other individual ; and here the comparison is good. 
Bandies do not always contain what is supposed to 
be in them ; and here, also, the similarity continues. 
Man has been called the creature of circumstances. 
Now, if circumstances make men, and man is a bun- 
dle of habits, do circumstances make habits, or habits 
make circumstances? One of these conclusions 
would seem to be the natural result of these two tru- 
isms combined. If circumstances make habits, and 
habits make men, then man is the toy of chance and 
the sport of fortune, or accomplishes the specific pur- 
pose for which he was created, and could not possibly 
deviate from the course which he pursues. If habits 
are the great lever which moves the world, then cir- 
cumstances become a subsequent of this antecedent, 
and man has control over his own habits, or has no 



INKLINGS. 191 

control over his own destiny. If we ascribe to each 
of these maxims a controlling influence, without ad- 
mitting the unlimited power of either, their applica- 
tion in numerous instances may be explained, and 
the mind remain unembarrassed with formidable ob- 
jections. An individual may assert his independence 
during the first friendly embraces of a new habit, 
but, by degrees it may twine itself around the will, 
until the will has lost all power to resist its impor- 
tunities ; and then sickness, a change of other 
habits, or some startling emergency can alone rouse 
the dormant energies of the sleeper, and burst the 
bonds which bind him a captive to his habit. Per- 
haps some one will say, if circumstances had not 
placed the temptation in his way, the habit never 
would have been acquired ; but may we not look 
♦further, to man's desires, and his own free will to 
control them? The objector may say, man's will 
may be free, and yet of little consequence, if it have 
not power to control his appetites and passions ; and 
to this may be replied, if you give a colt the whole 
length of the halter, you must not be surprised if 
he drag you after him, or break away entirely from 
your control. The mental organization, blending 
with a strong development of some physical laws, 
may give a tendency to certain habits ; circumstan- 
ces may favor that tendency, and in this way the 
w T eb of a man's destiny may seem to be woven by 
the fates themselves. The course of the fountain 
may be changed, but after it has passed over hills 



192 INKLINGS. 

and plains, arid through valleys with their tributa- 
ries, increasing its dimensions with its advance, until 
it has become a river upon which the commerce of 
a nation may float, winds and tides may agitate its 
surface, but they can not change its course, 

A great influence may be attributed to example, in 
the formation of habits ; for man is an imitative be- 
ing, inclined to follow in the footsteps of others. 
Some may be like an instrument of music, the strings 
dangling in every gale of popular opinion and im- 
pulse, without producing any vibrations which re- 
spond to the power that moves them : a few are like 
the same instrument strung to its highest tension, un- 
moved by the gentle breeze, and .responding only to. 
the whirlwind and storm. They resemble a comet 
blazing athwart the sky, a wanderer from other sys- 
tems, asking no borrowed light from sun or moon, 
pursuing a pathway lighted by its own corruscations. 
These are the exceptions which are said to confirm 
a general rule. A man can not pursue all the plans 
and notions which fall within the limits of his obser- 
vation, for the adoption of one, may preclude the pos- 
sibility of pursuing the other. His reason, feelings, 
taste and habits, may cause the rejection of many 
things presented for his imitation, but when his own 
inclinations are equally divided in the balance, so 
that a feather would turn the scale, the example, and 
opinion of the world resulting from that example, 
may cause either side to preponderate. 

You may think you care very little about the 



INKLINGS. 193 

world ; but when you undertake to move it, you will 
find yourself on the short arm of the lever, a few 
inches from the fulcrum ; the world on the long arm, 
at an infinite distance, and having as great advan- 
tage in weight, as in position. Another consideration 
should not not be forgotten. All men inhabit the 
same globe, yet each individual lives in a world of 
his own. Independent of the real difference which 
is presented to various persons, like the changes in a 
landscape viewed from a variety of positions, the ru- 
ling fancy of every individual, invests the scene with 
a charm peculiarly his own. 

" Know thyself." is a maxim so good and old, 
That of it you probably need not be told ; 
And yet to do this, as a part of my plan. 
Know well human nature developed in man. 



THE SPHERE OF TALENT. 



Man is like a labyrinth filled with narrow, devious 
passages, all terminating in some certain point: but 
who will find that thread of Daedalus, which can 
safely guide him through all its windings ? Man pre- 
sents a subject replete with interest, for his own con- 
templation. The construction of his body, and the 
organization of his mind, are subjects upon which he 



194 INKLINGS. 

may meditate with delight. In his physical forma- 
tion he discovers displays of wisdom and power, un- 
equaled in the wide world of animated nature. Even 
in his external appearance, man beholds in his "erect 
countenance" a superiority over all other beings 
around him. But when he directs his attention with- 
in himself, to the complicated machinery of the hu- 
man mind, the admiration which the first view elic- 
its, is lost in the amazement which succeeds it. In 
searching the whole creation, he finds nothing which 
bewilders with so intricate mazes, as the mysterious 
mover and guide of his own actions. Yet there is 
much pleasure in observing the operations of its va- 
rious departments. We can recall scenes of the past 
and bring them so vividly before us, that for a mo- 
ment they appear realities. We can place ourselves 
in childhood among little associates, and again enjoy 
their innocent amusements. The unfading beauties 
which we have gathered from the field of science, 
memory presents for mental food, whose deliciousness 
is better known by experience, than it can be from 
descriptive words. And when we view the creative 
powers of the fancy, we are astonished with the bold- 
ness of its daring flights. It appears to delight in 
untried paths, and in employing its inventive genius 
in erecting fabrics for its own amusement. Much un- 
like the speculations of fancy are the sober deduc- 
tions of reason, by which we are enabled to investi- 
gate and ascertain with absolute certainty, truths of 
the most sublime character which can be presented 
to the mind of man. 



INKLINGS, 195 

But when we turn our attention from the native 
characteristics of greatness in man, both physical 
and mental, to his actions and conduct in life, the in- 
terest which we feel, is chiefly of a painful kind. 
Even those who have stamped, everlasting infamy 
upon their names, by their debasing deeds of cruelty ? 
are many, when compared with the few, who have 
been eminent as benefactors of mankind. The great- 
est labor of the historian has been to delineate the 
exploits of those who have led thousands to the field 
of slaughter, for the sole purpose of augmenting their 
power and fame : as if that glory was greatest, which 
is purchased with the greatest effusion of human 
blood. Alas, how few of the great men who have 
lived, from Charles the victor in a hundred battles, 
to Alexander the conqueror of the world, are worthy 
. of remembrance, except for deeds of inhumanity, for 
aspiring after power and wealth, and for immortal- 
izing their names at the price of peace and liberty! 
In days famed for darkness in the annals of preceding 
ages, we read of those who employed their inventive 
genius in constructing instruments for the torture of 
their fellow man, and beheld with unmoistened eye, 
scenes which would draw tears from the subjects of 
Pluto's realms. 

If these examples prove, that the exalting faculties 
of the mind serve to debase, when employed upon 
improper objects, we find the names of a few recor- 
ded, who, employing their talents in their proper 
sphere, and performing much in ameliorating the con- 



196 INKLINGS. 

dition of man, will long be remembered with grati- 
tude and pointed to as examples worthy of imita- 
tion. We pity the ambition of kings, their restless 
strife for power and fame, and envy Socrates. his calm 
self-possession, always the same, whether in prosper- 
ity or exile ; and his happiness, resulting from his 
even temper and the rectitude of his intentions. Pho- 
cion the Good and Aristides the Just, names infinitely 
more exalting than emperor, are characters upon 
which we love to dwell, and admire the true great- 
ness and ennobling motives which influenced all their 
actions. Rome has produced a Brutus and Cato, for 
Freedom to admire and her friends to lament, who, 
for the liberty of their country, were willing to draw 
the assassin's dagger and encounter the danger of 
civil commotion. And if those who held the key of 
power and knowledge during the years of darkness 
which shroud the history of man, had not employed 
fortune's favorite gifts in projects which disgrace its 
pages, how different would have been the prospect, 
when Luther began to dispel the gloom of ages ! The 
herculean task which others had prepared for him, 
erected his own imperishable monument ; and all the 
champions of the Reformation might have been as 
unknown as the votaries of ambition, had their re- 
nown depended upon their intrinsic worth. And in 
more modern times, the long catalogue of those who 
have blest the world with discoveries in science, and 
the diffusion of knowledge and Christianity, presents 
subjects of thrilling interest for our reflection. The 



INKLING?. 197 

names of Bacon and Locke will not be forgotten, as 
long as high attainments in literature, and deep- 
searching investigation shall entitle them to a tribute 
of respecj ; and Newton will live in remembrance, 
as long as philosophy itself shall be considered ex- 
alting to the mind. The merits of Franklin, inter- 
woven with our nation's history, and as a statesman 
and philosopher recorded upon the roll of immortali- 
ty, are known and felt too deeply by his grateful 
country, to require the meed of untaught eulogy. 

But who shall write the epitaph of those who have 
unfolded the mystery, and illumined the darkness, 
which the skeptic has thrown around the Christian's 
path ? What pen shall describe the praise due to the 
little band, in which an Edwards is conspicuous, an 
ornament of which theology is " proud to boast? 79 
What tongue shall tell the virtues of "the noble few," 
who, like a Brainard, animated with genuine benevo- 
lence, have employed their lives for the good of man ? 
Let not frail mortal aspire to achievements which 
language is too feeble to execute ! The withering 
trophies which man could erect to their memories, 
would but mock their real greatness. 



CHAPTER XVI. 



TO THE PUBLISHER OF THE UNION MAGAZINE. 



The number that you sent me, Sir, was elegant and fine, 
And ripe for treason he must be, its contents would decline ; 
The gentle murmur of the stream that from Castalia flows, 
Was mingled with the tasteful facts and fancies of our woes. 

To fancy's magic power, has annointed genius given 
The right to dispel our tears, to soothe the heart when riven ; 
It lures from a vale of clouds, to that beauteous mountain, 
Where peace glides with the rill, from the Castalian fountain. 

Like eaglet perched upon a rock, above the ocean's roar, 
Which measures with its eye the space, and longs in flight to soar, 
Then drooping, hovers half-afraid to try the azure sky, 
'Till beckoned upward by a flight above the clouds on high : 



INKLINGS. 199 

Thus we, oppressed by the clouds of darkening gloom and sorrow, 
And weary with doleful thoughts of some mishap to-morrow, 
Our fancies bright, on awkward wings may try in vain to ily 5 
Until the eagle of the sky has beckoned us on high. 



THE SIGH. 



Loud sounds the merry laugh, 

All, pleasure seem to quaff 
From goblets filled with innocence and glee. 

"When cease the notes to thrill, 

Like spring birds in their trill, 
A sigh escaped, imprisoned by the free. 

Speak, fair one, tell me true, 

Why came that sigh from you, 
Whose eye alone could dry the fount of tears ? 

Why, when the laugh did cease, 

And all was quiet peace, 
That sigh arose to free the heart from fears. 

Was it to memory given, — 
From some beloved one driven 



200 INKLINGS. 

By cruel fate or unrelenting foe 1 
Fear not the rude world's scorn. 
The piercing of that thorn 

"Which probes too deep, the cause of other's woe. 

The peaceful lake at rest, 

Has imaged on its breast. 
Stars which in the arch above are shining. 

They tremble on the wave. 

And then themselves to save, 
Flee from the lake with rude storm repining. 

They flee but to return, 

So let your bosom burn, 
Until life's embers in its hopes expire. 

Then upward wing your way, 

Where angels chant their lay ; 
This is my hope, and this is my desire. 



HOPE. 



Hope is a truant boy, oft from reason straying, 
Hope is a butterfly, in a sun-beam playing ; 



INKLINGS. 201 

Hope is an image bright, from a mirror taken, 
Hope is a dream at night, gone when we awaken. 

Hope is a drop of dew, on the meadow shining, 
Hope is a maiden true, for her love repining ; 
Hope is a telescope, which brings an object near, 
Hope is a sovereign balm, to quiet every fear. 

Hope is a bird that sings in the gayest bowers, 
Hope is the bee that brings sweet from all the flowers ; 
Hope is the sun we see, when no sun is shining, 
Hope is what we may be, without all defining. 

Hope is a ship at sea, when you write a sonnet, 

Hope is a goodly tree, with fair blossoms on it ; 

Hope is the dirge we sing when friends have passed away, 

Hope spreads immortal wings, and bears us from our clay. 



REMARKS ON CRITICISM. 



If it is true that Pope lisped in numbers, the de- 
fect is scarcely perceptible in his work, although in 



202 INKLINGS. 

some places he approaches very near to a hiss. I 
have sometimes thought, he must have been nourish- 
ed in his younger days, with crab-apples, vinegar, 
and aquafortis. He says, that the tree will grow as 
the twig is bent, which no sober man will dispute. 
But he intends to say more, that like that tree, man 
is formed by education. Now, dear reader, it would 
take more bendings than you would be willing to be- 
stow, to make the prickles of the thorn grow upon 
the cherry tree, or apples upon the thorn. You might 
give the tree a general direction, but its distinctive 
character would appear ; from which it seems, that 
different men may be compared with various trees, 
for a better reason, than man with the whole class. 
In another place he complains, that some one had not 
learned to blot a line. On turning over a few pages 
a blot appeared, which caused some trouble, until 
Pope concluded to give me a few credit-marks for it. 
We know very well what he intends, and this was in- 
troduced for the benefit of some critics, to show how 
easy it is to find faults, and pervert the meaning, 
when any one wishes. The presumption of the law 
is, that every man is compos mentis, unless the con- 
trary be shown ; but some critics presume the contra- 
ry, and undertake to prove it by the dim reflection of 
their own heads, which are not bright enough to re- 
flect the image. This class of critics will do little 
injury, for while they strain out the gnat, which 
makes them wise in their own estimation, they swal- 
low little wrigglers for the amusement of innocent 
spectators* 



INKLINGS. 203 

There is another class much more to be feared. 
They profess much charity for human frailty, tell 
you that genius should be encouraged, profess a 
friendship for the writer, call him by some familiar 
name, as ray Tom, Dick, or Harry, and when he is 
well daubed with slime and slaver, they prepare to 
swallow him after the most approved, tropical fash- 
ion. Approaching to a contemplative distance, the 
rumination is something like the following : "Fine 
fellow — plump, nice game. Head not very large, 
just a decent termination of the body — have swallow- 
ed larger without any inconvenience. May cause 
some trouble between shoulders and hips, but think 
that can be managed. Make a good meal for a week 
— wonder where he got all the nice things to make 
him so fair !" We will pass over the remaining pro- 
ceedings, as they must be disagreeable to all, except 
the operator. 

There is yet another class which remains unmen- 
tioned; the smiling, sneering critics, who presume 
that a sarcastic smile, or aboriginal grunt will destroy 
forever the reputation of any writer. Their impu- 
dence is equaled only by their egotism. They think 
that a nod, a smile, a leer, or a wink, can make or 
ruin the reputation of any writer, without giving any 
reason, but their sovereign pleasure. Sometimes they 
show a refinement worthy of a better cause— 



-" assent with civil leer, 



And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer." 



204 INKLINGS, 

If they are not beneath contempt, they deserve it 
more than all other things disguised in human shape. 
A public enemy is entitled to honor, but a secret ca- 
lumniator should wear a pewter medal tied around 
his neck with a tow string, the word "reptile" en- 
graved upon it in large characters. If you are pub- 
licly assailed with malice or ridicule, you can talk of 
swords and pistols, and use them, when you are in 
haste to leave your troubles ; you can make yourself 
as low as your assailant, and hurl back his epithets 
upon his own head ; you can submit with a mulish 
patience or Christian grace, and show yourself imper- 
vious to the shafts of malice, whether guided by the 
feather wit, or barbed with brazen insolence. But 
you can not pursue the same course with the other. 
You are like one groping in the dark, often near an 
enemy when seeking a friend. 

The blacksmith must be the best judge of iron, the 
tailor of cloth. It is true they may be scholars and 
good judges of other things, but this is no objection 
to their excelling in the selection of articles used 
daily by them ; and you would not choose one to de- 
cide upon colors, who could not tell green from blue, 
or red from pink. The critic should be competent to 
judge, and should not abuse his judgment with pre- 
judice, wit, or sarcasm. The same subject may sug- 
gest very different reflections to the same individual, 
depending upon time, place, the feelings, and previ- 
ous reflections. When friends leave you, fortune 
frowns, disease gnaws the bark from the tree of hap- 



INKLINGS. 205 

piness, you gaze upon the moon, and it is then the 
pale, silent listener to your tale of woe; let friends 
and health return, and the bright, silver moon-beams 
dance upon the gentle waves. If a work has no 
merits, it is beneath criticism, as it must show a de- 
praved taste, for any one to be seen playing in a fil- 
thy pool ; and commendation of excellencies and beau- 
ties, is as much a part of criticism, as censure of de- 
fects. A critic should be a friend, tell us for our o 
benefit where he thinks we are in fault ; and in this 
he may be mistaken, since no man may justly claim 
perfection. He should advise us of such things as 
are commendable, that we may compare his taste 
with others', leave failures and cultivate parts more 
pleasing and successful. When the critic ceases to be 
a friend, he becomes a satirist or libeler. 

Criticism is not confined to books and writers. 
Public speakers are often a target for its shafts, point- 
ed and hardened through the heat of party prejudice, 
and painted with all the gaudy colors with which 
cruel selfishness betrays its wanton joy in the barbar- 
ous work. There are some who seem to know little 
of the proper use of the faculty of speech. Their 
tongues eternally wag, first on one subject, and then 
on another, thinking it is very little consequence 
which way they roll the ball, if they only keep it 
roiling. Sometimes they make a tremedous rush up- 
on the whole human race, declare every one a sim- 
pleton, and settle down into a repose sublimely ridic- 
ulous. Tlxey remind me of a reply once given by 
10 



206 INKLINGS. 

an inmate of bedlam, when questioned about the 
reason of his being there. He said, that he called 
all the world crazy, and all the world called him 
crazy ; and thereupon a dispute arose, and in the 
quarrel he was overpowered by numbers. This is 
one extreme ; now take the other, the man whose 
bosom warmed with universal benevolence for every 
body and every thing, praises all without discrimina- 
tion. He is a man who will do little mischief in so- 
ciety, and generally is wanting in nerve to do much 
good. You know his opinion upon a subject, as well 
before he is consulted, as afterwards ; whatever you 
propose is good, all good, and in this way he may do 
some undesigned mischief, By observing his com- 
paratives and superlatives, you may possibly make a 
distinction in his opinions, and a little more combafc- 
iveness in his composition, enough to say no, when 
the case requires it, would make him — the scandal 
of his neighborhood. "We love him with all his 
faults, much more than we should without them. 
But there is a sunshine of the face, which extends 
not to the heart. A man may be a church-member, 
attend service regularly, bless his daily bread with 
daily prayers for more, greet his poor neighbor with 
a kind " good morning," and yet refuse to assist him 
in distress; too selfish to pray for him, if he could 
slip into heaven without. This poor man has anoth- 
er neighbor, who sometimes swears at his cattle, but 
will draw him a load of wood when he needs it, and 
give him a shoulder of mutton when starving. It is 



INKLINGS. 207 

a pity this last character would not join the Church 
and turn the other member out. 

Criticism may lead to very serious consequences. 
Our ancestors criticised the absurd notions of the 
British parliament on the subject of taxation, and a 
contest followed. You do not expect me to enter in- 
to all the particulars of this controversy, for the sci- 
ence of politics is indeed too profound, it presents too 
many intricacies, to expect a knowledge of all i:s 
windings from the inexperienced. It would require 
intellectual energies equal to the physical strength 
of fabled Hercules, and its performance might as 
justly be celebrated, as his twelve labors. Yet in 
this, as in other sciences, we find the whole super- 
structure based upon a few, simple, elementary truths, 
sufficiently intelligible to be comprehended by the 
humblest capacity. Were this not so, no people 
could be found capable of self-government; for a 
knowledge of the object of government, implies a 
a knowledge of the fundamental rules for its opera- 
tion. This is also proved by reasoning of the most 
convincing kind, the reasoning of experience. More 
than a half century has demonstrated, that British 
colonies not only possessed sufficient intelligence for 
self-government, but were able to form confederacies 
from the most discordant materials, and successfully 
dispute the rights of freemen with the sea-girt mis- 
tress of the waves, who had snatched from Neptune 
the trident of the ocean. There still remain a few, 
whose snowy locks remind us of life's wintery scene, 



208 INKLINGS. 

yet they linger to rehearse the thrice-told tale of 
bloody conflicts. And could they live, and tell with 
artless eloquence to future generations, the story of 
their wrongs, hardships and sufferings, our re- 
public would stand upon a foundation, as firm as ad- 
amant. Could each successive generation see the 
furrowed cheek, the channel of the flowing heart, 
and hear the voice tremulous with the recital of the 
battle field, with its shrieks of wounded, groans of 
dying, heaps of slain, and streams of human gore, 
and be told, that this was the price of the favored 
institutions of their country, no man possessed of hu- 
man feelings, could wish to subvert them. But their 
lips will soon be closed in silence, not one will be left 
to admonish us not to trifle with blood-bought privi- 
leges, and time alone can unfold to us the mysteries 
of the unseen future. 

The careless critic, who cuts and thrusts like a 
young lieutenant anxious to show the world that he 
can wield a manly weapon, is in more danger of 
committing suicide, than manslaughter. The critic 
can not gather fruit from the shadow of a fruitful 
bough, nor expect the world to leave nature and its 
laws, for some standard of fancied excellence. That 
" all men are created equal," is a sentiment which 
was advanced by the founders of our freedom in the 
declaration of their rights, and which has ever been 
cherished by the philanthropist. With respect to 
"life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,' 7 the wise 
and virtuous may not disagree ; but as in this age of 



INKLINGS- 209 

discovery and improvement, many old doctrines are 
remodeled, and not a few found, which are entirely 
new, it is not surprising that we hear of one, based 
upon the term equality, but taken in a wider, or at 
least, in a different sense from that in which it is quo- 
ted. The most prominent characteristic of this new 
doctrine is, that all men are created equal in intellect. 
This is a general rule, to which, of course, there may 
be a few exceptions. Perhaps the advocates of this 
sentiment, which appears at first sight to be absurd, 
will be troubled to prove their position ; but be that 
as it may, it is certain, many things may be said in 
its favor. The ground upon which they build their 
belief, is, that " the thinking faculty contains all the 
machinery of operation, yet, in itself it is inoperative, 
and uninfluenced by external objects, it would lie for- 
. ever dormant. In other words, there are no innate 
ideas, the mind emerging into existence, is a blank : 
all thought is excited by objects without." An ar- 
gument they employ, is that of circumstances. They 
contend that the difference between man and man, 
is made by outward circumstances alone ; and if, up- 
on this principle they can account for the various dif- 
ferences which exist in the world, the theory is most 
clearly proved. The difference between the savage 
and sage, is caused by education. We have good 
reason to believe, that the aborigines of this country 
would equal ourselves in knowledge, if they possess- 
ed equal advantages for acquiring it ; and white 
children have been taken by them, who soon became 



210 INKLINGS. 

as rude as their associates. It may be objected, that 
the Indian, after he has been educated, has sought his 
own race, and the White, after years of captivity, has 
returned to the abodes of civilization. But the mind 
may receive lasting impressions, when young ; its 
pliant powers may receive an indelible impression in 
infancy. It may be further objected, that the inhabi- 
tants of the polar regions possess minds as dwarfish 
as their bodies, and far inferior to the gigantic intel- 
lects of the temperate zone. It may be answered, 
that climate, called in this theory one of the physi- 
cal circumstances, is the cause of the difference, and 
there is not of necessity any difference by creation. 
Many objections can be answered by a moment's re- 
flection, and from a person familiar with the philoso- 
phy of the mind, all objections might vanish. 

We all have equal rights, and this the critic should 
remember, if he claims for himself an intellectual 
superiority.. To select a suitable subject, arrange his 
ideas properly, and clothe them with such language 
as shall convey their meaning without ambiguity, is 
not among the least of the hard tasks of the student, 
for many he has to perform. There are subjects 
which would be suitable and interesting, but unfortu- 
nately for the scholar, wiser men, perhaps not natu- 
rally wiser, but wiser by age and experience, have 
spoken and written upon them, till they have lost 
much of their interest, and present dry and barren 
topics for a composition. He is obliged from the ne- 
cessity of the case, if little acquainted with the art 



INKLINGS. 211 

of expressing his thoughts, to speak of an old subject, 
so as to make it appear new. or to venture upon a 
new one, original remarks. But the industrious, the 
persevering and determined scholar will overcome all 
obstacles, such as at first view appear to be insur- 
mountable barriers. His way is onward. He has 
heard the saying, that resolution is omnipotent, and 
not content with the theory, he is determined to know 
by experience, whether the assertion be true or not. 
And as long as " labor omnia vineit' is his motto, he 
marches with gigantic strides towards the temple of 
fame. Should the question be asked the most learn- 
ed and honored of our country, what secret they dis- 
covered which advanced them to their envied emi- 
nence, they might tell us, that when young, they were 
most unwaveringly determined to merit the laurels 
which they had won, and their untiring zeal had 
placed them in their present situation. They might 
also tell us, that in their youth they had not as fair 
prospects, as thousands of their competitors. 

Intellectual pleasures are generally considered su- 
perior to sensual, and if it is true, that anticipation is 
a source of greater happiness than fruition, it is evi- 
dent the mind, including its exercises of memory, 
reason, and imagination, is the source of man's sweet- 
est bliss. No one may enjoy as much real happiness, 
as when fancy builds its airy castles to amuse him. 
His imagination may paint situations, which for a 
moment seem to be real and produce all the pleasure 
of a reality, which he never will obtain. Fancy will 



212 INKLINGS. 

always soar beyond reality. The ambitious may 
have wandered as much further than the rest of their 
race in imaginary worlds, as they have ascended 
higher in stern realities. Imagination and fancy may 
have guided and excited them onward. Bonaparte 
may have painted in boyhood, when the mind was 
receiving lasting impressions, brighter crowns, more 
durable honors, and a greater sway, than he ever ob- 

led. But fancy and imagination are not all of the 
1 which produce pleasure. The pursuit of knowl- 
edge in which memory and reason are concerned, 
may gratify and please enough to amply repay the 
necessary toil. 

Geographical knowledge may cause many unem- 
ployed hours to pass pleasantly in musing upon the 
various productions of the earth, the character of the 
inhabitants of different countries, and in presenting 
to the mind majestic rivers and lofty mountains, beau- 
tiful forests and prairies, and the different species of 
animals which inhabit them. History furnishes the 
material for passing many an hour agreeably, when 
there would otherwise be a void which no sensual 
pleasure could fill. Through this, we can commune 
with the illustrious of other days, and see the small- 
est causes producing the greatest revolutions, admire 
the virtue and greatness of some of the names re- 
sided, and abhor the boundless avarice and ambi- 
. tion of others. Astronomy may be said to be the 
most exalted of the sciences, but there is much inter- 
est in the laws of attraction, the principles of mech- 



INKLINGS. 213 

anism, and in the study of the different minerals and 
gases. Mathematics and the languages are above 
the suspicion of being uninteresting, and he, whose 
mind is stored with a knowledge of the arts and 
sciences, is prepared to live happy in any situation 
in which he may be placed. 

" Variety is the spice of life, which gives it all its 
flavor." The author of this often quoted sentence 
has escaped me, but whoever he may be, it proves 
him to be a person of no ordinary attainments. It is 
one of those rare sentences upon which the mind 
loves to dwell, like some things we find in the physi- 
cal world, which present new beauties upon a second 
examination. I have often seen these words, but sel- 
dom, without their exciting pleasant feelings and fur- 
nishing my mind with an agreeable subject for con- 
templation. The truth of the sentiment contained 
in them, is demonstrated by surveying every thing 
around us. Forests have much beauty added to 
them by the variety with which they abound. This 
may seem to be a trifling circumstance, but the natu- 
ralist, and indeed every person of good taste, must 
observe how much beauty variety adds to the stately 
forest. The farmer who possesses a cultivated mind 
and refined taste, beholds in the variety with which 
his fields are decorated, illustrations of the wisdom 
and goodness of the great Ruler of all things. Flow- 
ers, although of least importance in the vegetable 
kingdom, are far from being the least beautiful, and 
their beauty is increased by their great variety. An- 
10* 



214 INKLINGS. 

imals claim attention when this subject is considered, 
but without enumerating all the various tribes which 
are found from the polar regions to the equator, our 
own latitude presents a variety calculated to add to 
our comfort and pleasure. The feathered tribe, 
though not as necessary for our happiness as quad- 
rupeds, is not useless ; and the multitude of species 
which " wing the sky," differing in plumage and song, 
is truly astonishing. The highly curious can discov- 
er beauties through optical instruments, among in- 
jects ; and what countless numbers fashioned most 
curiously for their sphere, glide through the watery 
element ! 

But the most exalted and mysterious subject for the 
contemplation of man, is man. The nicest shades 
of difference, both mental and corporeal, are found 
among human bipeds. The variety of disposition is 
probably as great as the race is numerous, and there 
is the same variety of the individuals that compose 
the great family of man. After contemplating the 
variety of animate and inanimate nature, from man 
to the most M despicable insect," and from the sturdy 
oak to the lowly flower, we are naturally brought to 
the conclusion, that were it not for variety, we should 
feel like a traveler in a vast, sandy desert, which in- 
spires awe for the power of that Being who created 
the wide waste around, but who is ignorant of the 
pleasing emotions of reverence and love, produced 
by viewing displays of wisdom and goodness ! 



INKLINGS. §15 

The following lines are intended for critics, not for 
criticism : 



Let truth immutable ever be taught, 

Justice inflexible ever be sought, 

And charity mild ne'er ask to be bought, 

And knowledge crown their triumph. 



CHAPTER XVII, 



WINTER. 



Now comes the snow, like feathers floating 

Through all the silent air ; 
And Winter, like an old man doting, 

Beguiles of restless care. 

The snow-bird flies to the icy bough, 

Where robin sung her song ; 
In the air, the cold leaf quivers now, 

And follows all its throng. 

The merry bells, their music jingle, 
While glides the sleigh along; 

The belles and beaux, while ears do tingle, 
All, all to mirth belong. 



INKLINGS. 217 

Cold Winter's frozen tears are shining 

Like crystals in the light. 
And who can think, without repining. 

Of woes which meet the sight ? 

The cheerful blaze, on the cottage hearth, 

"While round the inmates smile, 
And plenty, pleased with the social mirth. 

And wit, the hours beguile, 

think of the lone, wandering son, 

Of want, surviving heir ; 
Now to kindness let your hearts be won> 

And. bless him with a share 1 



SPRING. 



Pair as Aurora, daughter of the morn. 
Fair as bright Phoebus and the goddess born. 
"We hail thee ; Spring ! Ye fair Nine who derive 
From memory, if cold winter ye survive, 
Warm with your ardor sweet, the glowing line ; 



218 INKLINGS. 

The praise be due to the immortal Nine ! 
The portals of the east are opened wide, 
Night's sable curtain now is drawn aside. 
And rosy-fingered morn soon paints the lawn 
With all the sweetness of the blushing dawn. 
Sol gilds the mountain tops, adorns the spires, 
And lights the windows with his golden fires ; 
Pursues dark shadows through their western way, 
Pours on the earth his beamy flood of day. 
The vision of the night soon fades away, 
That mental ramble of the mind astray, 
That echo of the soul when passions sleep, 
That harvest rich which angels help to reap. 
The meadows wake, and all the fields around 
Are vocal with the melody of sound, 
Hymning His praise, who, high above the day, 
Guides and sustains the linnet's tuneful lay. 
On yonder mossy bank, where streamlets play 
With flowers blooming in the month of May, 
The songsters of the thicket and the grove, 
Bask in the sunshine, or in fragrance rove. 
The stately forest in its gayest green, 
Now rustling, nodding in the air is seen, 
Waving its gentle branches in the breeze ; 
Thus Nature rocks her children of the trees. 
Far in the forest may a glen be found, 
Where deep the leaves have covered all the ground ; 
Above, the boughs are woven in a bower, 



INKLINGS. 219 

A safe retreat from April's gentle shower. 
Here, when the morning star directs the course 
Of sable Night with all her specter force, 
They safe may flee, until the cascade near 
Is pierced with light, and then with timely fear, 
Through all the glen to rocks and caverns fly, 
And there remain while Sol presides on high. 
The stately forest throws a gentle shade 
Upon the meadow, near a marshy glade, 
"Where a brook murmurs, as it rolls along, 
The gentle cadence of a dying song. 
Here, to the margin of the stream confined, 
The yielding earth to wet and dry resigned, 
The cowslips grow ; and here the lass and lad, 
Speaking the gentle thought, with eyes all glad 
With nature's beauty, gather in the store,] 
To them most grateful who desire no more. 
Over the fields, the messenger of Spring, 
The swallow glides upon its dusky wing, 
Pursues the down which in the air may roam, 
And bears it gaylyto the humble home. 
With slender rod and line, and barbed hook, 
To tempt the tenants of the babbling brook, 
And thought elate, the fisher takes his way, 
Well pleased upon the grassy bank to stray. 
The plow-boy sings of his country's battle, 
Where arms are gleaming and cannon rattle, 
Between the verses, whistles to his team ; 



220 INKLINGS. 

Sure this the chorus to the song might seem. 
Perchance a tender, melancholy strain 
Of woe and want, and their attending train, 
Flits through his fancy, and he sings the song 
Of " blue-eyed Mary," in its measure long. 
The cattle feeding on the plain are seen, 
The earth is covered with its carpet green, 
When to the west the Sun inclines his head, 
And sinks in glory to his evening bed, 
Casting a furlong shadow on the plain, 
Like giant old, beyond the liquid main. 
Near to yon aged thorn, the milk-maid sings, 
And this the tribute to the Muse she brings. 



SONG OF THE MILK-MAID. 



he was kind and gentle as the smiling month of May, 
O he was kind and gentle, and as innocently gay 
As lark that soars to meet the sun at early break of day ; 
he was kind and gentle as the smiling month of May ! 

His locks were like the raven's wing, his was the eagle eye, 
His voice was a remembered tone which well might cause a sigh 



LINGS. 221 

His spirit was a lofty one which loved to soar on high; 
His locks were like the raven's wing, his was the eagle eye. 

He left me sad and lonely too, near by yon aged thorn, 
He ]eft me early in the Spring, when all the blushing morn 
Was smiling as in sweetness now 3 but then methought in 

scorn ; 
He left me sad and lonely too, near by yon aged thorn. 

I hope to greet him welcome soon, to greet him welcome Lome. 
To greet him on a long return from all his worldly roam, 
Free from all pending danger near, and from the ocean foam ; 
I hope to greet him welcome soon, to greet him welcome home ! 



TO THE POLAR STAR. 



There thou shinest, as when long years ago 
I gazed upon thee ! Other stars may brighter 
Shine, may glitter with a richer splendor. 
But to me thou art the loveliest gem 
Which adorns the coronet of Night. 
Thy paler radiance is more congenial 



222 INKLINGS. 

To the thoughts, unbidden, welcome, which throng 
Around me, as thy mild luster recalls 
Departed joys, hopes, fears and friends, thou silent 
Witness of the past ! Couldst thou speak, and tell 
Me of those lingering thoughts, which like departing 
Friends, reluctant speak the sad farewell ; couldst 
Thou answer the queries which rush like mountain 
Torrents to the plain ; couldst thou relight the 
Extinguished taper, illumine the dark 
Pathway along life's rugged shore, and guide 
Me by its sounding billows, to those safe 
Retreats, where, sheltered from the storm, I smiled 
When the hoarse surge lashed the shore in fury ! 
Then sweet converse we would have, visit each 
Remembered, sunny spot of memory, and 
Wake the echoes with names long written in 
The calendar of time. Thou hast no merry 
Twinkling which repels the serious thought, fixed 
Forever to the north, with thy mild, changeless 
Luster, inviting to the thought serene. 
Thy silence is eloquent : thy voiceless 
Voice touches the" ear like the hushed silence 
Of the sealed lip, which seems to listen to 
The name, but leaves an aching void unanswered. 
Friends have gazed on thee, who no more will turn 
From Ursa Major, pointed to the lone 
Star, with expanding thought and soul dilating 
With His power, who suspends that pale lamp in 



INKLINGS. 223 

The northern sky. and forever lights its 
Unextinguished fire. TVe change, but changeless 
Thou ! Time was. when thou wort a diamond on 
The pale brow of some fairy queen, whose azure 
Dress, sparkling with brilliants, was all that could 
Be seen. Now, we view thee as a world, a 
Sun, the center of a system ; perhaps 
The center aroiyid which the universe 
Revolves, all lighted, varied with hill and 
Dale, and flowery herb, and bubbling fountain. 
And green arbor, where the good, on pinions 
Swift as thought, through all the various scene, all 
Welcome to them, with tireless wing are borne, 
TTe hail thee welcome to the sight, because 
Long absent ones have gazed upon thee, and 
TTe remember bright visions of the past. 
Xow fled forever, but their memory still 
Is sweet ! 



A REPLY. 



It may safely be said that disappointment has al- 
ways been the lot of mortals ; and it may be said with 



224 INKLINGS. 

almost equal safety, that their disappointments have 
arisen from an unexpected source. For the truth of 
these assertions, we have only to glance at the history 
of all past ages. But it is not my present object to 
speak of them, as connected with what has been in 
ancient times among the heroes of antiquity, but to 
apply them to events which have transpired recently, 
and within the walls of this Institution, dedicated to 
the arts and sciences, and all thatis'calculated to ex- 
pand the intellect and elevate the mind. The occur- 
rence to which 1 refer, is the unexpected and unpro- 
voked attack made by a gentleman last week, upon 
the character of the inmates of " No. 7." Perhaps 
some may be ignorant of the facts which caused the 
gentleman to make those daring flights in erudition 
and eloquence, which were echoed by these walls, 
and through which, indignation might have been 
seen to glow — on one countenance alone. They were 
as follows. Two females of the aborigines of our 
country, came to the Institution, and agreeably to 
their custom, entered a private room unceremoniously, 
were seated by the occupants, and after soliciting a 
little assistance, departed. Such was the transaction 
marked with vice and immorality, which has cost the 
gentleman so many tears and bitter pangs, and the 
most criminal part of which, he insinuates, was fur- 
nishing those poor wanderers with seats. In reply to 
the gentleman's charge, I have only to say, that I 
had formerly supposed it was a sure indication of 
real greatness, to be civil and kind to those whom 



INKLINGS. 225 

nature or circumstances had placed beneath us. But 
I have found myself mistaken, for the gentleman 
thinks otherwise. Yet do we not deserve, at least, 
his charity; for, if these same females had been 
tinged with a deeper hue, would they not probably 
have drawn him into the same vortex ? 

There were several other points on which he dwelt 
at some length, but were not considered by him as 
criminal as the one mentioned, and I shall therefore 
leave them and notice the giant-like powers of mind 
which he displayed in his masterly production. And 
here permit me to say, that I feel incompetent to the 
task, and wholly unable to do justice to the gentle- 
man's glowing descriptions. How beautiful and sub- 
lime was his delineation of their entrance into the In- 
stitution ! How worthy of his pen ! To fully real- 
ize it, imagine yourself standing at a convenient dis- 
tance in front of the Academy, and viewing with 
your own eyes, two stately squaws gracefully as- 
cending the stone steps. Could any one view such 
a spectacle, unmoved ? Yet this is but a single in- 
stance, of more than a half dozen which might be 
mentioned, to show the gentleman's powers of mind. 
There is not, probably, in all the land, an individual 
that would not compare with him, like a mountain 

rill with a frog pond ; and among all the orators 

of the past. I know of but few instances that could 
with any propriety bear the name of our modern 
Cicero. But, that we may be the better prepared to 
judge of his superiority, even over the renowned an- 



226 INKLINGS. 

cients, we will give a specimen of the gentleman's 
talents, and compare it with an exclamation of for- 
mer days. In his last week's production, he says : 
"A female remarkable for her size, ascended with a 
graceful step the front stairs of the Academy, and 
then proceeding to one of the private rooms, entered 
without ceremony." The spscimen of past oratory, 
needs only repeating, to be understood: "O that it 
would but please thee to inhabit with me the low cot- 
tages — and to shoot stags !" I leave all to judge for 
themselves, of the merits of each. 



EPISTOLARY EXTRACT. 



When in the course of human events, circum- 
stances favor the transmission of a few lines to a 
friend, a decent respect for my own feelings, compels 
me to improve the opportunity. 

You may, perhaps, anticipate more important news 
than I have to communicate ; and yet, it probably 
will not be very surprising, if, in the course of the 
few days which have passed since we conversed to- 
gether, I have become little richer, poorer, better, 
worse or wiser. I have the " News" from New York, 
to relieve the dull monotony of Graham's Practice ; 
these, with an occasional ramble in the fields and 
woods, make up the whole routine of occupation and 



INKLINGS 227 

amusement. Did not a law of our nature exist, that 
the acquisition of knowledge produces pleasure, or, 
as the school boys have it, — doetrina vitam suavem 
efficit, — where could we obtain sufficient stimulus, 
resolution and perseverance, to propel us through all 
the difficulties of a professional education? And 
how often, after all the labor and self-denial attend- 
ing such an education, do we see the young aspirant 
too weak to receive the extended wreath, recline on 
the bosom of mother Earth for his last, long sleep ; 
or, what is worse, living in penury and pining in se- 
cret over the ingratitude of a world which will not, 
or can not appreciate his worth ! Sic transit gloria 
mundi. From such a fate, good Lord deliver us. 

The sum total of human life is composed of many 
small items, so little, that separately considered, we 
think them of no value ; but when added, they make 
an astonishing amount. The opportunities for great 
performances may not pres Q nt themselves in a life- 
time ; that "tide in the affairs of men, which, taken 
at the flood, leads on to fortune," has rarely been seen 
in season for the venture ; and many have followed 
the receding wave with regrets which obscured the 
vision, that they might not see the beauties which 
were washed upon the shore. Now gay, and then 
serious, this is human nature ; and in chasing a but- 
terfly, a man m.o.y leap over a brook whose banks are 
golden sand, without observing them. The wants of 
the body necessarily claim a large share of every 
man's life. The primary wants, rest and food, con- 



22S INKLINGS. / 

sume about one-half; and the remaining half is often 
employed in gratifying some caprice ; and let me say, 
with all due deference to every body, that we all have 
our caprices. One, in a nervous regard for the 
world's opinion, another, in a reckless disregard of it; 
and thus the world will disagree. Young ladies oft- 
en have a caprice for a young man with a smooth 
chin and clean linen ; industrious old men like to see 
a swarthy face and hardened dexter. These wants 
and caprices being subtracted from the sum of life, a 
small balance remains to be devoted to benevolent 
and philanthropic objects : and this balance is some- 
times employed, as was jocosely remarked the other 
day, in backing friends down hill. 

There is one man who is forever telling how many 
people the doctors kill, and another, who is perpetu- 
ally on the stump against priest-craft, and yet anoth- 
er, who, like a fox in a poultry yard, delights in ta- 
ring off some lawyer for dissection. It is a pity he 
could not study classics and law, eight or ten years, 
and then be laughed at, as a good-for-nothing nui- 
sance. Life has been compared to a stream, and to 
enlarge a little upon the idea, it is a wide stream, or 
it could not float all the craft upon it ; and in many 
places it is very deep, so deep that it can not be fath- 
omed ; and surely you will agree with me / that some 
queer fish are caught in its waters. Perhaps you ask 
by this time, what are you driving at? You shall 
be answered in the Yankee style, by another ques- 
tion. Did you ever see a child upon the seashore, col- 



INKLINGS 229 

lecting the sand in a long line, and then behind its 
defence talking bravely to the winds and waves ? 
The child grew weary with its own harangue, re- 
tired to the paternal roof for rest and shelter, the tide 
swept away its little work, and it forgot the aspira- 
tions which glistened in its eye the day before. 

This place furnishes very lettle news of impor- 
tance. The sun, moon and stars are here as in other 
places, that is, we see them from this place, and they 
come a few hundred feet nearer to us than tide wa- 
ter ; but that is nothing to boast of, particularly in the 
winter. Old Mr. Politics died last fall, and very lit- 
tle has been said about him since his decease. The 
temperance cause stands below zero in the shade. 
There is no small-pox, or any thing of that kind, in 
our breezes, unless it be borne from a great distance. 
Two or three weddings are talked of, by the old la- 
dies of course, and it is hopeful the parties will be 
liberal with their cake ; kissing the bride, up here 
among the country girls, would be " rather nice ;" 
and then think of the cake, all crusted over with su- 
gar ! Bipeds are a very extraordinary class of be- 
ings, exclusive of the feathered tribe ; and it is a 
matter of conjecture, whether any thing similar to 
them could be found in the moon, provided we had 
an ethereal rail- way, constructed on the principle of 
the inclined plane, to take us up there. There are 
mountains up there, five or six times higher than the 
highest on the earth, according to some astronomical 
accounts, but no indications of water ; and accord- 
11 



230 INKLINGS. 

ing to my notion, the atmosphere must differ from 
ours, because it presents uniformly the same appear- 
ance. But what a moon our earth would make for 
them up there, the lunarians ! Only think of forty 
moons in our sky at the same time, and then put 
them all into one, and it would be a little too light to 
whisper honey in the ear of the sylvan nymphs of this 
mundane sphere ! Speaking of nymphs, (you have 
seen them often, they are what some green ones call 
girls,) reminds me of a pic-nic which went off, not 
exploded, but passed gently away since you were 
here. Some people have said, that country girls of 
notoriety live only in romances ; that they have swar- 
thy complexions, masculine hands, large feet and 
coarse shoes, with holes in their stockings, and all 
that sort of thing ; but if you had been here, and 
seen what might have been seen, you would imme- 
diately have filed a bill in chancery for staying such 
proceedings. If you ever dreamed of seeing a crea- 
ture so beautifully bewitching, that you raised your 
head in a sound sleep from the pillow to kiss the 
phantom, and found yourself wide awake in pitchy 
darkness, you may conceive the beauty of the occa- 
s; >n ; but let me tell you, that roses, violets and dan- 
delions, and the whole race of vegetable matter, will 
not furnish a comparison. You may have noticed, 
that I have indirectly called myself a green one. 
The truth is, the gun was heavily loaded and kicked 
a little, but I guess that somebody at the other end 
was hurt more than myself. 



INKLINGS. 231 

When you come to see me, do bring all the news 
you can. Tell, first of all, who has been murdered, 
and all the particulars of the transaction ; and next, 
all the fights that have occurred for several weeks, 
and if any man has abused his wife, we will give 
him a sound thrashing, over a cup of coffee. If there 
have been any fires, do tell how they happened and 
all about them, and be sure not to forget any confi- 
dential communication degrading the character of 
any of your neighbors ; you can rely upon me with 
perfect safety. If any one has joined the church re- 
cently, you will please watch him in church until 
he sneezes, notice particularly his looks and the dea- 
con's, and observe whether the preacher turns his eye 
in that direction. 

There are so many things to write about, that I 
scarcely know where to stop ; and after all, a letter 
is a poor substitute for two or three hours' conver- 
sation with an old friend. You have my sincere 
thanks for your kind attentions formerly, and with 
the hope that a foundation has been laid for a per- 
manent friendship, permit me, in conclusion, with 
the desire that your own good sense will correct in 
a friendly way, all the mistakes of this epistle, to 
subscribe myself, 

Respectfully yours, S. D. P. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



AN EVENING MEDITATION. 



We have a Father kind, above, 
Who rules the wint'r y storm, 

And makes the flowers of his love 
Assume a pleasing form. 

The Bible, on his children here, 

In mercy he bestows, 
Which may dispel each gloomy fear, 

When fierce the tempest blows. 

The lamp which sheds no flickering light, 

On life's bewildered way ; 
The polar star to cheer our sight, 

While here on earth we stay. 



INKLINGS. 233 



Then to our Father we will turn, 

In dark or joyful hour, 
While in our hearts his love does burn, 

And we confess his power. 

If, from his precepts wise, we stray, 

In dark and evil hour, 
"We have an Advocate who may 

Remove the clouds which lower. 



I KXEW HER BY HER GENTLE AIR. 



I knew her by her gentle air, 

Her modest look and lovely form ; 

Lovely among a thousand fair, 

Too frail for life's cold, wint'ry storm. 

Her eye was eloquent with love 

And hope, fresh as the rising day ; 

Her bosom, like fair clouds above, 

Kissed by the sun's departing ray. 



234 INKLINGS. 

Time passed, and in that eye a flame 

Was burning with a fair, clear light ; 
Within that breast, no more the same, 

Passion had made a scathing blight. 

The earth was beautiful no more. 

No freshness from its verdure sprung ; 

Her heart was troubled oft and sore, 

For him round whom her hopes now clung. 

And as her hopes fled, one by one, 

She still pursued till far from sight ; 

And then, sad, weary and alone, 

She sought to hide her heart's sad blight. 

No more will sunshine light a smile, 
No more for her will flowers bloom, 

Unless the sunshine may beguile 

A smile from flowers round her tomb. 



INKLINGS 235 

TO A YOUNG LADY AT SCHOOL. 



Do not be mad, and in a huff 

Take a large pinch of Scottish snm% 

Because for once I have turned ranter, 

Mounted Pegasus on a canter, 

To let you know without commotion, 

My early and sincere devotion 

To scribbling rhyme, and all that thing 

Which greenest poets love to sing. 

Perhaps you think your Pa would say, 

That he' should know without delay, 

Of this, and every kindred kind 

Of thing that's running in your mind. 

Be quiet now, he does not care 

A single straw, a single hair, 

Although I have not asked, you know, 

If this or that be so and so. — 

Among the seventy, more or less, 

Of damsel faces which may bless 

The learning's seat where you are staying, 

"What are they all ? A Christian, praying 

Class, who, with keen delight may look 

On study and the musty book ? 

Some may be sick and melancholic, 

Some, full of fun, inclined to frolic ; 



236 INKLINGS. 

And sure, among so many boys. 
The girls may find some pretty toys. 
With which they may amuse, I ween, 
The study hours, and not be seen.— 
Commend me to the quaker gir], 
Although she may not dance and whirl 
In fashion's giddy, reckless maze, 
For one of Nature's waifs and strays. 
I might say more, but then you know, 
I saw her but an hour or so. — 
How fares the French ? Can you talk now, 
And write in French, a maiden's vow ; 
Discourse right on without a blunder, 
And without making Yankee thunder ? 
Some say, that mending coats and hose, 
As every Christian person knows, 
Is better far than all the prattle, 
Which, from the mouth of Miss, may rattle. 
But you will take the quiet way, 
Which far between extremes may lay, 
Leave his own notions to the fool, 
And mend your hose when out of school. — 
Were you returned from school once more, 
To the green bank of life's gay shore, 
Where you have roamed in days of yore, 
Gayly I would, the dipping oar, 
Place in your hand, and tell you well 
To shun the current's mighty spell, 



INKLINGS. 237 

Which, all unseen, may work a change. 
Greater far than the wind's wide range. 



VALENTINE. 



Since from the side of Adam, came 
The rib which formed a glorious dame, 

The mother of our race ; 
Men have been paired like ducks and geese, 
Some choosing with a love of peace, 

And some, a smiling face. 

You may not think me all unkind, 
When for a gentle, constant mind, 

Love and sweetness blending, 
This valentine to you is sent ; 
No. unkind cut, for you is meant, 

And no vile contending. 

Yet all must very plainly see, 
To walk life's way, two must agree 
And have a constant mind } 
IV 



238 INKLINGS. 

So send me. by return of mail, 
Your yea or nay, and do not fail 
To think me well inclined. 



LINES 

WRITTEH AFTER READING CAMPBELL'S PLEASURES OP HOPE, AND 
OTHER POEMS. 



God bless the Poet's noble soul, 

From whose great Harp such numbers roll, 

As spread the truth from pole to pole, 

And wake the soul to gladness ! 
Those numbers sweet, now gently fall, 
Now move the heart, and then in thrall 
They bind the passions, one and all, 

"With chords of thrilling sadness. 

Hail to the bard whose mind austere 
Can bring wild Fancy to the sphere, 
"Where, joined with Hope, and without fear, 

She rambles on with pleasure ! 
Whose heart can mingle with the rose, 
And swell the tempest when it blows 
A wrathful deluge on the foes ; 

Hail the immortal treasure ! 



INKLINGS. 239 

Long be such names as Campbell's known. 
When kings who sit upon the throne. 
Have ceased to hear the widow's groan. 

And hapless orphan's wailing ! 
His numbers are almost divine, 
The heart so well he does define, 
To virtue's side so strong incline, 

That sure he has no failing. 



WE ARE PEEPERS ALL ! 



From childhood to extreme old age, 
From dulness to the greatest sage, 
From summer time to winter rage, 

Over this great ball, 
Through all its dark and vast expanse, 
Now lighted with a meteor glance, 
Then sinking from the wild entrance, 

We are peepers all ! 

The toddling child that picks the berry, 
And sings in tones most sweet and merry, 
With face which would defy Daguerre, 
Down behind the wall, 



240 INKLINGS. 

Looks upward to the careless throng 
That in the road now rolls along, 
And still it prattles on its song \ 
We are peepers all ! 



The student with an austere look 

Of wisdom drawn from some new book, 

Or tongue that with its accents shook 

Some great, ancient hall, 
Looks backward through the maze of years, 
And forward with his doubts and fears, 
Which sometimes start the trickling tears ; 

We are peepers all ! 

For office one may take a peep 

At things that look both dark and steep. 

And in hot water take a leap, 

Or insure a fall ; 
Then curse his stars in accents wild, 
Declare he ne'er was Fortune's child, 
His disposition was so mild ; 

We are peepers all ! 

The maiden 'neath the bending tree, 
Looks on her lover with a glee, 
That makes all baser passions flee, 
Or remain in thrall \ 



INKLINGS. 241 



Peeps on the future with a joy 
Which nothing earthly can alloy, 
Except fear for her darling boy ; 
We are peepers all ! 

The preacher whom we all revere 
For manners mild and yet severe, 
And almost worship him with fear, 

All, both great and small. 
Look upward to a heaven above, 
See through his eye the holy dove 
Descending on its wings of love ; 

We are peepers all ! 

Where'er we go, where'er we stray, 
If chance has, for a single day, 
Made in our plans some great delay, 

By a morning call, 
Or in a fit of painful gout, 
Or when at fashion's ball we flout, 
Till Death has squeezed our peepers out. 

We are peepers all ! 



242 INKLINGS. 



LETTER TO UNCLE SAM. 



My Dear Uncle Sam: — 

You have been expecting to receive a 
reply to your last letter, and here it comes. You 
may be a little surprised to see it printed, and think it 
is not intended for you, but it is ; and you need not 
be alarmed about any private, family matters, for this 
will be a general, rambling epistle, so that strangers 
to us will think that it is a fiction, while you will 
know the contrary. As you like a good, long letter, 
without any firstly, secondly, and all that, you shall 
have this, without any sour, theological questions 
about that other world, whether it be a dreamless 
sleep, or a sleepless dream. The present is all we 
have, and I hope that present will never be worse 
employed, than in writing to an old friend. You 
know Uncle Sam that lives at Washington ; it may 
be, he will think this is intended for him, and if he 
should send me a kind reply, as it is natural for me 
to be grateful for favors, it would be preserved as a 
memento of the august, old gentleman's condescen- 
sion. The half-century question has been discussed 
in all the papers here ; you have probably seen 
something similar, and as that question has worn out 
the quills of a whole flock of geese, you will permit 
me to nib my pen once on that point. Is the year 



INKLINGS. 243 

1850, the last year of the first half, or the first year of 
the last half? That is the question. Now, as it 
was the year one, all the way through that year un- 
til the year two commenced, so it will be fifty, all the 
way through the year fifty until fifty-one commen- 
ces ; and as fifty is one half of one hundred, the first 
day of fifty-one, must be the first ^iay of the last half 
of the century. Is not this an explanation of the 
question? 

You have never been told how the boys and girls 
slide on the river, have you? Well, you shall know 
how it was done when I was in the West. The riv- 
er was about sixty feet wide, and the boys brought a 
post, and cutting a hole through the ice, planted it 
firmly in the center of the stream, leaving it four feet 
above the surface of the ice, and driving a pin into 
the upper end. Then a pole thirty-five feet long was 
brought, and after making an auger hole five feet 
from the large end, it was placed on the post, and a 
hand sleigh fastened to the other extremity. You 
must see by this time, the modus operandi. One is 
placed upon the sleigh, which sweeps both shores in a 
circle swifter than the wild deer, while three or four 
walk slowly around the post, gently pushing against 
the pole. This is fine sport for them, but you must 
be careful, young sovereigns, and not let the sleigh 
get away from the pole, for if it should, you may 
crack your crowns ! Once a young lady let go to 
get a better hold, and off she went down the river 
like a shooting star, about ten rods, till she came to a 



244 INKLINGS. 

break in the ice, and slipped in, feet first, so quick 
that I guess the fish wriggled off in a hurry. The 
water was not very deep, and she waded ashore be- 
fore any one could recover from the first surprise. 

Things here remain in statu quo. We have storms 
and sunshine, about the usual quantity of fogs and 
clouds, and some fair weather, when shadows can 
only be seen as you turn from the sun or remove to 
the shade. For my part, give me the south side of 
the fence when the sun shines, and as for storms, the 
most agreeable shower is when it rains sugar plums. 
When spring returns again, I intend to chase the first 
butterfly that comes along. Speaking of butterflies 
reminds me of school-boy days long since passed 
away, when we would gather around a score of little, 
yellow wings, and watch them as they changed com- 
panions, fluttering around in groups, and then float- 
ing away to extract honey from a thistle flower. 
Once we found a large one with various colors, and 
after a long chase we caught it in a hat, and one of 
us having a handkerchief with which the hat was 
covered, we alternately took a peep with as much 
pleasure as large boys look through glasses at pic- 
tures of cities. One discovered only a variety of 
beautiful colors ; another discovered the letter W in 
black on the wings, and said it meant that there 
would be war very soon ; and a little girl saw a fan, 
which, she said, the butterfly used without doubt 
when it was warm. 

Now we will turn to a little, useful knowledge, 



INKLINGS. 245 

which is always desired by those who possess a cul- 
tivated taste, and probably is more desired by no one 
than by him who has the most of it. Like the miser 
— no, I will not compare him with the miser ; like 
the fledged tenant of the air, which at first soars but 
a short distance from the place of incubation, but em- 
boldened by the effort, afterwards soars upward till 
it is lost in the clouds above, and finally mounts be- 
yond the region of storms, and enjoys a serenity of 
atmosphere, denied to those of less strength and cour- 
age. But to return to the subject of useful knowl- 
edge ; it is so well appreciated, that I trust an excuse 
will not be necessary for writing a short description of 
an ingenious and useful discovery, which I saw in a 
neighboring village, through the politeness of a friend 
there. The invention to which I refer, is a steam en- 
gine, constructed entirely different from any other 
which has been made. The steam is produced by 
boilers, and conducted from them by a tube into a 
horizontal cylinder, hollow at the end. The steam 
passes from the cylinder into two arms, projecting 
from opposite sides of the cylinder, with orifices near 
the ends, on opposite sides of the arms. The steam 
rushing from the orifices produces the motion, and 
the arms are cased in iron, from which a tube con- 
ducts the steam again to the boilers. This was one 
of the ingenious constructions of. "William Avery, 
whose early death, all friends of improvement must 
lament. 



246 INKLIx\fSS. 

You are no quid nunc, otherwise I might tell you 
how a little girl came along home from school the 
other night with a bare hand, for she had lost her mit- 
ten in the confusion of play ; and how one man at 
town meeting proposed to bet ten dollars, that he 
could leap over six horses. Some of our Yankees 
are full of ginger and pepper, and all that, and look 
so much like an old spice-bag, that we can scarcely 
guess what is inside. A great many years ago, when 
the country was new, one of them had a rough hold 
with a wild bear ; but that was a little too much, 
even for a Yankee. Going fifty miles to mill, is what 
has been done here, though not quite so recently as 
among you at the West. Your embryo villages, 
that cut flourishes on paper, will soon be the rivals of 
those, where now the story of the wild-deer chase, 
the hunter's lodge, and the Indian's wigwam, are pre- 
served among well authenticated records of the past, 
to be used like the prudent house- wife's other pre- 
serves, mostly for company. I suppose there are some 
wild turkeys where you are now ; not on your farm, 
but within a few miles. There were many in your 
State a few years ago, and I will tell you how they 
were sometimes caught. A little pen of round poles 
was made in a suitable place, with a strong, flat roof. 
On one side, the earth was taken away and the bot- 
tom pole cut nearly off on the under side, and corn, 
or something that turkeys eat, was thrown into the 
pen, about the hole and for some distance around. 



INKLINGS. 247 

The turkeys would find their way into the pen and 
remain prisoners. 

The subject of education has received a share of 
public attention in the West, and New York is rival- 
ing New England in laudable efforts. My greatest, 
personal interest is in the public libraries. There are 
libraries in every school district, containing useful in- 
formation, free for all the inhabitants, and it is my 
delight to consult these silent, friendly counselors. 
The works are selected by the trustees of the district, 
and of course there may be some bad selections ; but 
the libraries are generally composed of useful books. 
We have in our library, ancient and modern history, 
religious and moral works, scientific and philosophi- 
cal books, lectures for young men, and hints for young 
ladies. The love and madness of Tasso, is the only 
poetical work which our library can boast. That the 
trustees think of frightening the juveniles from wri- 
ting poetry, by this account of an unfortunate bard, 
which comes to us wrapt in so much mystery and 
doubt, as to leave little room for any thing except con- 
jecture, is more than can be said positively ; but their 
actions squint that way. Are not Bryant, Halleck, 
Whittier, Longfellow, Sigourney, and several others, 
worthy a place with Cooper's Naval History? They 
have decided here against the poets, but there is a 
higher tribunal which may reverse the decision. I 
can remember the time when it was said, we had no 
gifted genius who could remove the veil from Nature's 
face and disclose her peerless beauty, throw a halo 



248 INKLINGS. 

around the shadows of the past, or in the midnight 
darkness of the future, catch glorious glimpses, like 
Shakspeare, Milton, and Barns. But what then was 
future, has demonstrated that the spark was in the 
flint, and collison has kindled a flame which burns 
American incense on the heart's altar of a free peo- 
ple. 

•■ Yesterday being Sunday. I listened to a revival 
preacher. His theme was sectarianism and he dis- 
played some wit, some sarcasm, and an abundance 
of the principle which he condemned. He manifest- 
ed too much of the pleader, for a good judge, and too 
little charity, for that benevolence which is said to 
characterize Christianity. I speak only of my own 
impressions, without pretending to any authority for 
judging him, and at the same time disclaiming for 
him or any other man, the right of judging unchari- 
tably, those who may happen to differ with him about 
the standard of orthodoxy. The sectarian may wor- 
ship a divinity which appears to him to preside like 
a great high-priest over the Church to which he be- 
longs, and view his own pulpit orator as a vicegerent 
fully authorized to fulminate his anathemas against 
all other sects, and all the world, except the precious 
few of his own Church; but is not this degrading the 
wise Ruler of the universe to a petty tyrant, whom, 
Roman virtue, with all its mixture of heathen my- 
thology, would not endure ? That Being who crea- 
ted and governs all things, I do not say, " the moral 
Governor of the universe," fearing you might think 



INKLINGS. 249 

the term restrictive, but the absolute Ruler of all 
things, governing by his laws and providences, all 
living as well as inanimate things, can not be so de- 
graded as to preside over particular Churches and 
watch with an eager eye their prosperity, while the 
world at large is viewed with indifference. " There's 
a Divinity that shapes our ends, rough hew them as 
we will." It is generally conceded, that the day of 
miracles has passed, and consequently, no man can 
claim a direct revelation from heaven. Man's own 
reason, assisted by what has been revealed, and an 
observance of the laws and operations of nature, 
must be the guide to all his conclusions ; and be- 
cause a man does not arrive at the same conclusion 
with his neighbor, is no positive argument, that either 
of them is right or wrong. We can see but a little 
way, and looking through microscopes, causes ob- 
jects to appear too large, while there is another kind 
of glasses which makes them appear too small, and 
furthermore, " all looks yellow to the jaundiced eye." 
If any man could reasonably hope to destroy secta- 
rianism by a great effort, he should be applauded for 
the noble design ; but as things are at present, throw- 
ing ridicule and obloquy upon the subject, is too 
much like opening old wounds with slivers, instead 
of spreading over them a plaster of charity. To con- 
clude my remarks upon this subject, I believe with 
Burns, 

" The heart, benevolent and kind, 
The most resembles God." 

Respectfully yours, S. D. P. 



CHAPTER XIX. 



TO A DESPONDING FRIEND. 



The cheering sunlight shines on all around, 
On cottage roof and on the splendid dome, 

Gives beauty to the rose which may be found 
Beside the humble home. 

Heaven's free breezes blow on all the earth, 
On mountain top and in the lowly vale, 

Fanning the embers on the lonely hearth 
And nourishing the frail. 

The gentle dew which falls at silent night, 
On sturdy oak and the withered flower, 

Gives to the poet's vision fancy's might, 
In eve's lonely bower. 



INKLINGS. 251 

The rill that clashes from the mountain height 
And forms a snow wreath of the circling spray, 

Decking the bird with beauty in its flight, 
Is it ncc mine, I pray ? 

The stars that gMtter in the concave blue, 

When Night has placed her sentinels on high, 

Look down upon the world and see the true, 
When ghastly death is nigh. 

Then why repine at fortune's humble lot, 

Because the rich in luxury may roll ? 
Is this great maxim, now so soon forgot, 

The worth is in the soul ? 

Fortune may frown, and after that may smile, 

She is a fickle dame, as all may tell ; 
Then keep in purity the soul from guile, 

And act your own part well. 

Those friends, who, beneath the weeping willows, 
Forgetful of the world's discordant jars, 

To you seem sleeping, have crossed the billows, 
And sing among the stars. 

A few short years, and life's thread will sever, 
And we shall bid a long, a last adieu. 



252 INKLINGS. 

To the world and all its scenes forever ; 
Around the couch a few. 



iC Congenial spirits part to meet again ; M 

Then with one friend to take the parting sigh, 

Let the winds blow against your bark in vain ; 
We'll hope to meet on high. 



SONG. 



In the west I have seen the bright, evening star, 
When twilight grew dim in the distance afar, 
And Night swiftly rolled o'er the earth in her car — 
In the west I have seen the bright, evening star. 

Sweet birds I have heard in the green, leafy bower, 
Gay chanting their lay in the fresh, April shower, 
With no thought of care and no wish for more power- 
Sweet birds I have heard in the green, leafy bower. 

Far down in the dell, I have seen the wild rose, 
Which nature protects from the rude wind that blows, 



INKLINGS. 253 

Exhaling its sweets to the stream which there flows — 
Far down in the dell, I have seen the wild rose. 

The pearl I hare seen, from the bed of the ocean, 
From valleys most fair, 'neath the wild waves commotion, 
The pearl which may mingle our thoughts with emotion — 
The pearl I have seen, from the bed of the ocean. 

I have seen the lambs play on the green, dewy lawn, 
When from slumber they roused with the first blushing dawn, 
And to nature my heart was instinctively drawn — 
I have seen the lambs play on the green, dewy lawn. 



THE AMERICAN FLAG. 



My country's Flag ! my country's Flag ! 

With Eagle, Stripes and Stars ; 
Where red and white, and blue unite, 

Our welfare never mars ! 
The stars and blue of heaven's hue, 

Our thoughts must ratse on high ; 
12 



254 INKLINGS. 

The white and red their language spread, 

"Where friends or foemen sigh. 
The bird of Jove on high shall rove. 

And cleave the liquid air ; 
Then downward stoop in battle's swoop. 

And take the trophies fair. 
The stripes on foe we will bestow,, 

Till battle's din is past 
And peace all fair shall give a share 

To fortune which may last. 



My country's Flag ! my country's Flag I 

Long may thy banner wave, 
In breezes free, on land and sea, 

The emblem of the brave ! 
"While Washington, that noble son 

Of Freedom, shall remain 
Above, to see what we may be, 

keep it from all stain ! 
That Eoman bird, as we have heard. 

Lies drooping in the dust, 
Where sculpture pride, on every side, 

Has made some antique bust. 
Perhaps a bust, so near the dust, 

May, upward with its hand. 
Point to the place where ends the race ; 

The spirit, spirit land I 



INKLINGS. 255 

My country's Flag ! my country's Flag ! 

No wayward course be thine ; 
No comet's flight^ to blaze with light 

And then no more to shine ! 
But when fierce Mars shall cloud the stars 

Which on thy folds may gleam. 
May peace return, and once more burn, 

The stars with milder beam ! 
And may the poor, if Greek or Moor, 

"Who feels the tyrant's rod, 
Bless, with his eyes turned to the skies, 

This Messenger of God ! 
"Westward the star is seen from far, 

Which lights our onward way ; 
Roll on the time, when every clime 

Shall bless a peaceful sway ! 



THE THIRTY-FIRST CONGRESS. 



Now in the reign of honest Zack, 
Who never has been called a quack, 
In surgery, at least j 



256 INKLINGS. 

Congress men have made such clatter, 
Something sure must be the matter, 
More than a common feast. 



The laurels won on Mexic plain. 
Among the vanquished and the slain. 

Are green upon his brow ; 
Hard earned, dear bought, and yet we know, 
A little darker than the snow, 

The wreath to which we bow. 

They say, he is inclined to peace, 
Since he obtained an honest lease 

Of that great, splendid house ; 
Smokes a cigar, and tells them all, 
That he would leave the spacious hall, 

As quiet as a mouse. 

But Congress men have a debate, 
About great matters of the State, 

And this you clearly see ; 
It is most difficult to say, 
Who may be right, and who shall say, 

"When doctors disagree ? 

Some come there from the Southern plain, 
Where smiling plenty loves to reign, 
All free from common care; 



INKLINGS. 257 

Where the Palmetto fair is seen, 
And nature, graced with living green, 
Invitingly looks fair. 

The Lone Star sends a host in one, 
Her patriot father and her son, 

From gardens of the free 5 
"Where prairie flowers scent the gale 
With sweetest fragrance to inhale, 

There freemen love to be. 

That mighty river of the West, 
Sends from its valley of the best, 

Without a thought of fear, 
Who counsel from an honest heart, 
With thoughts profound which they impart 

To all who wish to hear. 

And from the bleak, New-England hills, 
Where late the music of the rills 

Is heard in silver chime, 
Comes Daniel, who, with thunder tone. 
Can almost move to hollow groan, 

The men of olden time. 

From New- York and the Keystone State, 
Wise heads, strong hearts do congregate, 
And to the public weal, 



258 INKLINGS. 

Give their attention, each in turn, 
"While flow from lips those words that burn. 
Which wise men only feel. 

Now comes the question of the slave, 
Who first was brought here by some knave, 

When we were very young ; 
Britain, with favor for the strong. 
Turned from the weak and left the wrong, 

To which we since have clung. 

Where in the South that curse still clings, 
Its blighting poison round them flings, 

To them it must belong, 
To free the captive from his chains, 
To let him sing in Freedom's strains, 

And melody of song. 



About those lands far to the west, 

Which human footsteps scarce have pressed, 

All unreclaimed and free. 
Each freeman has a right to speak, 
Although he may be poor and weak, 

What he may think and see. 

Where slavery yet has never been, 
Where land has not been cursed with sin 



INKLINGS. 259 



So odious and dire, 
There let the beacon blaze on high, 
And raise its incense to the sky, 

From Freedom's holy fire. 

Freedom ! thou art ever dear, 
To human hearts both far and near, 

For rich and poor, for all, 
Thy presence. has a cheering smile 
Which human hearts may well beguile, 

All oyer this great ball ! 

Too long has man, too long has man, 

"With Freedom's banner in his van. 
Held captive in his rear, 

His brother man with tyrant might, 

Deprived of Freedom's holy right, 

With chains and slavish fear ! 

thou ! omnipotent above, 
Known by the holy name of Love, 

Grant this my last request : 
To live on earth in Freedom's bower, 
To die at last with Freedom's power 

All warm within my breast ! 

And if to others thou wouldst give 
A greater blessing than to live. 



260 INKLINGS. 

My heart now speaks its truth ; 
Give them on earth free air to breathe, 
Around their temples Freedom wreathe, 

And then immortal youth ! 



SONG. 



Hear me, Love ! hear me. Love ! while from the heart I bring 
Songs of love, songs of love, which round the heart do cling ; 
Kemove me from the twilight and bear me on jour wing, 
Take away the poison shaft, and from the shaft the sting. 

Thou art kind ! thou art kind ! and more than this I knew, 
Thou didst love, thou didst love, so fervently and true! 
And had that pure love been shared by many or by few, 
To me that gentle kindness had not been shown by you. 

I am sad ! I am sad ! and weary is my year, 

All around, all around, my sky is gloomy here, 

And timid I have become with undefined fear \ 

surely it was not thus, when you, my Love, were near ! 



INKLINGS. 261 

Souls may feel, souls may feel, the mildew with its blight, 
Far away, far away, may fry the vision bright, 
Which has come to bless them, and then far remove from sight, 
And leave them cold and cheerless as bleak November's night. 

"We must meet ! we must meet ! we can not part forever ; 
Parted now, parted now, it will not be thus ever \ 
The golden cord which binds us, no rude hand can sever, 
Where sighs are never heard, and friends are parted never ! 



THE SEA. 



Resting like an infant sleeping, 

As thou never hadst known weeping, 

And angels were vigils keeping, 

With sweetest songs for thee ; 
All quiet is thy placid brow, 
Thy breathing like a lover's vow, 
Soft whispered with a modest bow. 

Thou quiet, gentle Sea ! 

Thou Zephyr, quiet now remain, 
Thou Notus of the southern plain, 
12* 



262 INKLINGS. 

And Eurus of the eastern reign. 

Be quiet, quiet ye ! 
"While Ocean sleeps with gentle rest. 
And peaceful is his noble breast, 
As patriarch with wisdom blest, 

The placid-smiling Sea ! 

He rouses now, and shakes his locks, 
Dashes with fury on the rocks, 
While human might he proudly mocks, 

And bounds along with glee ; 
Then with the whirlwind wildly plays, 
Scorns to forgive us our delays, 
For death and fury only prays, 

Eelentless, haughty Sea ! 

Down in thy caverns, far fronf air, 
Are treasures rich and treasures fair, 
But who would tempt thee in thy lair, 

Or wish to visit thee. 
Where wrecks are strewed around thy doors, 
And human bones are on thy shores, 
And wrathful tempest howls and roars. 

Thou monster, monster Sea ! 

Is it a hoarse and hollow groan, 
Is it with dirge you now bemoan, 



INKLINGS. 263 



And is that requiem a loan, 

In kindness sent to me ? 
To teach me some desponding strain. 
How many hopes are all in vain, 
And sink beneath the stormy main, 

Thou hoarse, resounding Sea I 

Full many ships from port have sailed, 
When summer winds have almost failed, 
"Whose sturdy hearts have often quailed 

With lowly bended knee ; 
As onward borne on crested wave, 
To coward heart is changed the brave ; 
When far from land, who then can save ? 

Thou false and fickle Sea ! 

It must be that thou dost repent, 
Thy rugged breast must now lament, 
That wailing voice is surely sent 

To spirits of the free, 
Whose forms are wasting in decay, 
To monsters may have been a prey, 
In thy deep bosom, far from day ; 

Thou wailing, wailing Sea ! 

"With all thy faults I love thee still, 5 ' 
For thou hast a quiescent will, 



264 INKLINGS. 

To sing the grand bass for the rill, 

Down by the leafy tree. 
That voice is heard on Britain's shore, 
And on our coast forever more, 
With music in its sounding roar, 
The ever sounding Sea ! 



TO A LADY WHO ADVERTISED FOR A HUSBAND. 



The other day, when all was peace, 

And sunshine seemed to hold a lease 

Of fortune for a pleasant day, 

And birds were trilling their sweet lay, — 

Returning home to take my tea, 

As busy as a honey bee, 

With thoughts of future good arrayed 

In pleasing change of sun and shade, — 

While in this pleasant frame of mind, 

To kindness all my thoughts inclined, 

The Tribune spoke of joy, of bliss, 

And matrimony's sweetest kiss, 

All offered in a quiet way. 

To -certain men who might say, yea. 



INKLINGS. 265 

You say, that forty is your age, 

"Which witless dandies might enrage ; 

But as for nie, I do declare, 

That if your brow is smooth and fair, 

If time has left his footprints there 

With gentle traces of his care, 

And age with wisdom is combined, 

To soothe life's cares you are inclined, 

(A grand design in Wisdom's plan, 

To lengthen out life's feeble span,) 

Perhaps we may go to the altar, 

And noosed in matrimony's halter, 

Pass on, and think of gold the chain, 

Which makes but one, the honest twain. 

Now, with my modesty aside, 

To speak with all becoming pride. 

Of my own self. To my age, you 

Can not object, if yours be true ; 

And, now and then, in peaceful brooks, 

I take a peep to see my looks ; 

And what they say, you sure shall know, 

Without a gloss or point of show. 

" You well might pass on through a crowd. 

Without a hiss or plaudit loud ; 

And yet the quick observer spy 

The passions playing in the eye, 

Which never can quite all conceal, 

What nature taught them to reveal. 

In plain and honest garb, you seem 



266 INKLINGS. 

No one of whom the poets dream. 
An honest man, with goodly store 
Of mental wealth, and nothing more." 
I never persecute your sex, 

Unless it be with kindness \ 
Their passions never try to yex, 

To folly I am blindness. 
Ask all my neighbors, they can tell, 
How true, and fervently, and well 
I love. Some one of them might say. 
That in my youth I was too gay ; 
The folly, sure you would not chide, 
Which leans so far to virtue's side. 
Please send to me without delay, 
Some token for this first essay ; 
Some word in pity, kindness given, 
To cheer the lonely to his heaven. 



THE CHURCH-YARD. 



One day while musing, sad and weary, 
On human life with all its scenes, 
While life seemed like a desert dreary, 



L\KLINGS. 267 

And flowers few the wanderer gleans ; 
The beech-tree spread around its shade 
Upon the fresh, the blooming earth, 
The fleecy cloud its journey made, 
The quiet was too deep for mirih. 

The knell was heard, the solemn bell, 

Informing of time's decay ; 
Heard ye not the slow, solemn knell, 

Informing of time's decay ; 
Heard ye not the slow music swell, 

In the far distance away 7 

The weepers stand around the bier, 

Forgetful of to-morrow \ 
The worst is past, they cannot fear ; 

"Who can relieve their sorrow ? 

While life remained, there still was hope, 

But now that hope has vanished ; 
In darkness now their way they grope, 

Sorrow no more is banished. 

"When dust to dust the last time falls, 

The dank sod smoothly planted, 
An icy coldness round me crawls ; 

Pardon to all is granted. 



268 INKLINGS. i 

The wound which death inflicts on friends, 
Time may, perhaps, heal over ; 

But then the scar its signet lends. 
To mark for death the rover. 

Slow measures now the solemn bell, 
The steps of men departing ; 

The stone is placed on sorrow's well, 
Wisdom to all imparting. 

It is not meet to think of crime, 

Or past offences given ; 
A brother man has lived his time, 

Can he not be forgiven 7 

Our common nature was his own, 
Perhaps by habits altered ; 

But he is left now, cold and lone, 
The weary tongue has faltered. 

We will draw near his resting place, 
With our sickly hopes deferred, 

And write with serious, tearful face, 
Love and charity preferred. 



INKLINGS. 269 

EPITAPH. 



Life's fitful fever now is past, 
Its hopes and fears departed ; 

Think not its lesson here, the last 
Which Wisdom has imparted, 

Learn how to live, and then you will 

Disarm the king of terror ; 
The heart from love's deep fountain fill, 

With charity for error, 

Do not forget your brother man, 
Who slowly is progressing ; 

Cheer him as often as you can, 
And heaven will grant a blessing, 



A GRACE. 



Xow 3 to our Father kind, above 3 
We raise a grateful voice. 



270 INKLINGS. 

For every token of his love 

And blessing of his choice ; 
And always to revere his name, 

Who does for all provide. 
Still humbly to confess the same, 

Let weal or woe betide, 
And live in harmony divine. 

With all his creatures here ; 
To this may every heart incline, 

While in his presence near. 



CHILDHOOD. 



The morning sun was bright ard gay, 
All sparkling was the living ray 
Which danced along life's early way, 

In its first view ; 
On downy pinions was the flight 
Of time, through regions fair and bright, 
Which had not seen a wasting blight, 

When life was new. 



INKLINGS. 271 

Sweet was the air in life's green bower, 
Dear was the love which had the power 
To give new fragrance to the flower, 

And life was true ; 
Its magic then was without art. 
And pleasure sweet, it did impart, 
As rapture flashed from heart to heart. 

When life was new. 



No motto shall my mind require, 
To guard the feelings which inspire 
My heart with most devout desire, 

To cherish you, 
"Who waded with me in the brook, 
And cringed beneath the master's look. 
Because our lessons we forsook, 

"When life was new. 



And you, who, in the leafy grove. 
With rosy morning loved to rove, 
And with the sapling often strove. 

Which thrifty grew, 
A few rods from the school-house door, 
Where Miss had sprinkled well the floor, 
And told us to do so no more, 

When life was new. 



272 INKLINGS. 

Then we did read of wicked Jack, 
"Who put poor robin on the rack, 
And caught the whip on his own back, 

"Which we all knew, 
We must elude with all our might, 
Because he was a naughty wight, 
And torture gave him rich delight. 

When life was new. 



Then we were on a summer sea. 
Were wafted on with breezes free. 
And life was fair as it could be, 

A happy crew, 
With master kind to trim the sail 
And guide us safely through the gale, 
And never did his kindness fail, 

When life was new. 



If darkening clouds were ever seen 
To throw their shadows on the green, 
They seemed a momentary screen 

From heaven's blue, 
Which brighter looked when they had passed ; 
Few were the clouds which overcast 
Those joys which were too sweet to last, 

When life was new. 



INKLINGS. 273 



When we had been at school all day. 
Had learned the lessons with the play, 
And low the sun sunk with delay, 

And cool winds blew, 
Then we would hasten to the cot, 
Where weariness was all forgot ; 
And heaven blest our humble lot. 

When life was new. 



The elm which grew beside the way. 
The rose-bush where we oft did stray, 
May sink with others in decay, 

The wide world through; 
Yet they will live in memory's page, 
A green spot in the waste of age, 
As when the heart they did engage, 

When life was new. 



Those days have fled, but left a spell, 
The bosom warm with life to swell, 
Which language is too poor to tell, 

While I review 
That morning sun without a spot, 
That joyous life without a blot ; 
never can all be forgot, 

When life was new ! 



CHAPTER XX. 



THE PEN. 



Long years ago, long years ago, 

When Greece and Rome were young, 
Those happy days of pleasant lays 

Which then the poets sung. 
The iron Pen was used by men, 

To give their thoughts a form 
Which might remain without a stain, 

Protected from the storm. 
In after time, where Egypt's clime 

Suggested something new, 
Paper was made, to sell or trade, 

A common thing to you ; 
And then the style, from ancient Nile, 

Was thrown away by man, 
And he stood still, without a quill, 

To mark some noble plan. 



INKLINGS. 277 



At length the bow was made to show 
The skill of manly hand ; 

The bird on wing, soon felt the sting 
"Which brought it to the land. 



The Pen has told of wars most bold, 

And triumphs nobly won, 
And pilgrims tread where freemen bled, 

And patriotic son 
"Who reads the page, the name and age 

Of those who nobly fell. 
Must feel a thrill his bosom fill, 

With burning ardor swell. 
What magic spell, has name of Tell, 

And not for Swiss alone, 
Each freeman' 3 right, a name to blight 

The despot on his throne ! 
And Robert Bruce will grant no truce 

To his own country's foe, 
But with his band will draw his brand, 

There's freedom in each blow ! 



Turn we from strife, where human life 
Is bartered for its rights, 

To fields of green which may be seen, 
Now free from nature's blights ; 

To bird and bower, and vernal shower. 

13 



278 INKLINGS. 

And streamlet running gay, 
Where Cupid's dart lias pierced the heart. 

In smiling month of May. 
The word of Burns, then oft returns 

To cheer our lonely lot. 
When friends sincere we sometimes fear, 

Kind greetings have forgot. 
When Alpine tide, with current wide, 

Rolls back upon the heart, 
The frozen stream, which still may gleam, 

Yet pleasure not impart, 
The Pen which wrote what needs no nota 

That '• man was made to mourn," 
Some comfort gives to him who lives 

With sorrow overborne. 
And Shakspeare, grand on every hand, 

Wise maxims gives to all, 
To cheer, to bless, and to caress 

The sons of Adam's fall. 
The name his Pen has given men, 

Will live till doom is past, 
And echo then, from every glen, 

Repeat it to the blast. 
Milton, sublime in every clime, 

Where human thought has been, 
Gives visions bright, to cheer the sight,. 

All free from inbred sin. 



INKLINGS. 279 

In early life before the strife, 

The struggle has begun, 
AYhen passion free, roves like a bee 

In summer's shining sun. 
The Pen informs of wint'ry storms 

AVhich yet may blow full cold, 
Teaches the young, they may be stung, 

If they should be too bold. 
Blest, if they hear with timely fear, 

The counsel of the wise, 
Incline to men of wisdom's Pen, 

And ripen for the skies. 

The sword has might, in field of fight, 

To lay opposers low ; 
The Pen has power, its richest dower, 

To give and guide the blow* 
Fame oft will sleep, or lowly creep, 

Till winged by magic Pen, 
Then she will rise, and through the skies 

Bear deeds of noble men. 
All hail the Pen ! the mighty Pen ! 

The giant of the day ; 
"We'll bind his brow, with myrtle now, 

And leave him with our lay ! 



280 INKLINGS. 

FREE SCHOOLS. 



Cl He is a freeman whom the truth makes free I" 

He is a freeman whom the truth makes free, 
Whate'er the hue which nature may bestow ; 

The unlearned man, in bonds will surely be, 
Though fortune favor with its gifts below. 

Is that man free, who knows no truth, no laws, 
Beyond the primal wants nature bestows ? 

Who walks in blindness to the moving cause, 
Whenever nature wakens from repose? 

Is that man free, who, when the lightnings play 
And sportive leap among their cloudy bowers, 

Knows not their laws ? Is he not free, I pray, 
To whom they tamely yield their august powers ? 

And is he free, who, when the starry sky 
Sweetly invites our night dreams far away, 

Sees nothing more than meets the idle eye? 
No distant glory kindling into day ? 

He is an exile from his native home, 
Who knows no beauty in the flowers' bloom ; 

And doomed a careless wanderer to roam, 
And penury of soul will be his doom. 



INKLINGS. 281 

For him the rain may fall, the fields look gay, 
And geological stores in earth may be ; 

He feels like one who treads an unknown way, 
Fear stays his footsteps, and he is not free. 

The time has come when statesmen must agree, 
That mind, the noblest treasure of the great, 

Demands their care ; and children must be free, 
By free instruction, in the Empire State. 

And when thus taught, they firmly will be bound 
By strongest ties known to the human heart, 

For right and country always to be found ; 
As freely they receive, freely impart. 



THE SABBATH. 



How grateful seems the Sabbath day, 
When toiling man can rest ; 

Can learn to praise and learn to pray, 
And be forever blest ! 



282 INKLINGS. 

When worldly care may cease to crave 
Each passion to control ; 

And man can look beyond the grave, 
Where ages endless roll. 



Hail, holy Day ! on which the Lord 
Rose from the cold, dark grave ; 

Hail, holy Day ! on which the Lord 
Arose, mankind to save ! 

To him a grateful voice we raise, 

For his redeeming love ; 
While here on earth we learn to praise. 

But more shall know above. 

With meekness may we tread the road 
Which leads to love on high ! 

Lord take us to thy blest abode, 
When we are called to die ! 

And we will sing on that blest shore, 
Where life and love shall blend, 

Redeeming love forever more, 
And ages without end ! 



INKLINGS. 283 



SUMMER. 



Change, change forever, is the law which guides 
And governs all things here below ; 

Forever marches with gigantic strides, 
In haste, some new good to bestow. 

The eager eye turns from the scene around, 
From the dear scene it loved so well, 

To some new landscape on enchanted ground, 
"Where hope unscathed may love to dwell. 

Summer advances, and with ardent gaze 

Pursues retiring Spring along ; 
And when her burning eye may us amaze, 

"We feel the transport of her song. 

Thy yearly visit from the tropic zone, 

We greet with pleasure, fair brunette ! 

With welcome warms us, after thou hast flown, 
We long remember we have met. 

Come, as thon hast come, with thy face all warm 
With life-blood flowing from the heart ! 

Hide not thy face behind a frowning storm, 
Wh^re the red lightnings play their part ! 



284 INKLINGS. 

Come, as thou hast come, with thy tresses free 
And zone unbound to court the breeze, 

When the bees roving in sweet odor's sea, 
Repose beneath the leafy trees I 

And the long, evening twilight grateful seems, 
With its cool air and gentle dew. 

After the vertic sun's warm, melting beams 
Have, in the west, declined from view. 

The firefly for a moment lights the air, 
The cricket sings upon the hearth; 

With gentle evening comes release from care ; 
And quiet then, is noisy mirth. 

With thy fair sisters of the south, delay, 
And then return unto us here ; 

And when from Capricorn thou dost essay 

To come, bring with thee warming cheer ! 

When cold winter in icy chains has bound 
Each brook that prattled to the sea, 

Then, fair Summer ! on thy return be found, 
The helpless captive to set free I 



INKLINGS. 285 



LAMENT FOE IKELAND. 



Could that lovely, green isle float away to a clime 
Where the vulture's protection would cease to devour, 
Then would the sweet music of streams in their chime, 
Seem sweeter, and gayer the rose perfumed bower. 

Long, long has the blight of oppression been feeding, 
Like the worm in the bud which prevented its bloom ; 
Long, the wail of distress rose to power unheeding 
The dark cloud which lingered around with its gloom. 



May the time swiftly come when the shackles shall fall, 
And a shout shall be raised for the Emerald Isle \ 
"When the glad sons of Erin, in Liberty's hall, 
Shall sing their bold anthems and cheer with a smile ! 

While the hoarse-sounding billows around thy green shore, 
Shall reply to the pain of thy grief-stricken heart. 
May hope ever linger round each cottage door, 
And comfort with visions which it can impart ! 

13* 



286 INKLINGS. 



EPITAPH FOR A REVOLUTIONARY PATRIOT. 



Rest for the weary, rest from the toil 
Which assisted a nation to free ; 

Hope for the humble, hope for the soil 

Where the confiding Christian may be ! 



HUNGARY. 



A DIRGE. 



Mourn, friends of Freedom ! weep the Magyar slain, 
Who for his country and its rights did stand ; 
Who bathed with warm blood, his loved, native plain. 
And died with blessings for his native land. 

And is that blood so nobly shed, in vain ? 
Will Austria fear not for the coming doom ? 
Will no dark shadows flit around her reign, 
To haunt her palace and her festive room ! 



INKLINGS. 287 

Yes, from the ground the voice of blood will cry^ 
And bring dismay into the tyrant's heart; 
While soft, eolian strains may sweetly sigh. 
Base fear will mock the transports they impart. 

The lonely Magyar on his native hill, 
The sad survivor of his country's fall. 
Will hear a solace in the midnight still, 
Whispered with visions which the heart appall. 

And when the time shall come, as come it will, 
For Freedom to erect her drooping head, 
Her watch-fire then will burn on every hill, 
And light the ashes of her noble dead. 

Mourn, friends of Freedom ! weep her early flight, 
For she has fled, pursued by trampling arms 5 
All hail the goddess welcome to the sight, 
And safe protect her from the tyrant's harms ! 



AUTUMN. 



The heart a sad. responsive strain, 
Feels, when the Autumn gale, 



288 INKLINGS. 

Its farewell sighs around the plain, 
And whispers in the vale. 



Hark ! hear the voice it speaks to you, 
While viewing nature's scene ; 

Sad memories it brings to view, 
Sear fields, yet once so green ! 

No more is heard the robin's song, 
The rose has faded now ; 

The last rose of the summer long, 
Now decks no fairy brow. 

The blighting frost has been at play 
Among the forest leaves, 

And with a thousand colors gay, 
Fantastic vision weaves. 

Those colors are the warning glow 

Of nature ere it dies, 
And kindly beckon to bestow 

The smile which it denies. 

The dull sun now no rainbow forms 
Upon the dark cloud's brow ; 

The driving winds and pelting storms 
Are cold and frequent, now, 



INKLINGS. 289 



Yet, Autumn ! thou hast pleasant days, 
And fruit a goodly store ; 

The nut-brown maid in pleasant lays, 
Sings tales in days of yore. 

When plenty smiles, all should rejoice, 
And hard must be the heart 

Which feels no kindling in its voice, 
Which Autumn scenes impart. 



THE FARMER. 



To till the soil with honest toil, 

Is noble in design ; 
To plow and sow, and reap and mow, 

To wisdom may incline. 
With nature's voice, it is his choice 

To hold communion sweet, 
The Farmer's mind is thus made kind. 

As passing seasons greet. 

The birds and flowers, the wild- wood bowers 
Are his too see and hear. 



290 INKLINGS. 

And odors fair are in the air, 
And strange to him is fear. 

The sylvan song of all the throng 
Which warbles in the shade, 

From mountain side does sweetly glide 
To yonder, distant glade. 

The grass and grain upon the plain, 

Are waving in the breeze, 
The herd is seen where pastures green 

Invite to shade of trees. 
And when at noon is felt full soon, 

The sun's directest ray, 
The gentle brooks in pleasant nooks, 

Invite him there to stay. 

When toil is done and he has won 

A relish for his food, 
For supper fair he may prepare, 

With thoughts of gentle mood. 
His house, not gay, repels no ray 

To cheer his humble lot ; 
While slumbers sweet his eyelids greet, 

All labor is forgot. 

Ye city gents who pay your rents 
And breathe a tainted air, 



INKLINGS. 291 

Come to the land where all is grand, 

And view the beauties there ! 
The fair cascade, the green- wood glade, 

The hill, the vale and fields ! 
The rustic band which reaps the land, 

Fiom want and famine shields. 

Bards, who have sung while maidens hung 

Enraptured on the verse, 
Of mountains grand, and zephyrs bland, 

Fanning while they rehearse, 
Have sung sweet strains which warm the veins 

With scenes of rural life, 
So free from care, so kind and fair, 

So free from art and strife ! 



The child at play among the hay, 

The ducks upon the pond, 
The willows sad, where oft were glad, 

Young lives when hearts were fond, 
The mossy bank, where oft they drank 

The music of the rill, 
And sang a lay to pass the day — 

How sweet their memory still ! 

The Farmer's life is free from strife, 
While others vainly roam, 



292 INKLINGS. 

And all his care, how sweet to share 
With friends around his home ! 

All honor, then, to those brave men, 
The soil are tilling now ; 

And while they toil upon the soil, 
All honor to the plow ! 



THE LADY WHO SANG FOR ME. 



sweetly she sang of her own native mountains, 
Where childhood had gathered its quick-fading flowers ; 
Enchantingly sang of her own gushing fountains 
Which sparkled with gladness around the green bowers ! 

Far away from the ocean's wild-raging billows, 
Was a home above which the proud eagle did soar 5 
And around it were streams all drooping with willows, 
Where the brooklets were kissing the smooth-pebbled shore. 

For her friends she breathed with the purest devotion, 
The affection which comes from the home of the heart ; 
And rich was that voice with its trembling emotion, 
As it poured forth the wealth it did freely impart. 



INKLINGS. 293 

The birds on the hill-side, so sweetly were singing. 
When the pure breath of morn had awaked them again, 
In her ear their notes had been constantly ringing, 
And among them she hoped ever more to remain. 

Other places were dear, where the heart had entwined 
The green wreath of affection to bloom ever more. 
Yet the morning of life and its scenes here combined 
To impress the mind deep with its unwritten lore. 

Sweet bird of the mountain ! when thou art returning, 

In the eyry to nestle from which thou dost roam, 

Those thoughts and those words in this heart shall be burning \ 

To the warbler, farewell, and her green mountain home I 



CHAPTER XXI. 



LIFE AND THE SEASONS. 



When life with all its nerves is new, 
And golden sunshine gives its hue 
To all around within the view, 

Then may we say, 
As we look back in after years, 
To all its smiles and pearly tears, 
And hopes made radiant with fears, 

A sweet, spring day. 

As in the spring, florets expand, 
By kindly winds are often fanned, 
And gentle rains revive the land, 

Life's only May 
Hangs buds of promise on each bough 
Which throws a shade upon the brow, 
And buries deep with culture's plow, 

That sweet, spring day. 



INKLINGS. 295 

The birds sing sweetest in the spring, 
Their notes from bliss they seem to bring, 
And upward borne upon the wing, 

Their distant lay, 
On waving circles of the air, 
Comes gliding down so free from care, 
That all the earth seems then more fair. 

On sweet, spring day. 



Life's spring time does not hear the strife, 
The cares and pains of after life, 
"With which humanity is rife ; 

To want no prey, 
The ear is then attuned to hear, 
"We listen with a heart sincere, 
And mingle love with every fear, 

On such a day. 



Swift fly our joys while here below, 
Swift as the arrow from the bow. 
As warrior gives the fatal blow, 

So swiftly they 
Pass on and leave no trace behind, 
Or leave us groping like the blind, 
For joys we hope once more to find, 

On such a day. 



296 INKLINGS. 

Spring passes, and near in her train, 
Summer pursues along the plain, 
With waving fields of yellow grain 

And fragrant hay ; 
Warm welcome greets us from her hand, 
With plenty spread o'er all the land, 
And cooled with evening zephyr bland, 

Is summer day. 



When thunders roll along the sky, 
And vivid lightning's flash is nigh, 
Then for a shelter we all fly 

The nearest way ; 
And while in bondage we remain, 
A fleeting hour may oft detain, 
And stamp it thus, " passed not in vain, 

A summer day." 

Then from the mountains and the hills, 
Descend the gentle, tinkling rills, 
The rain the air with freshness fills, 

And we all may 
Feast on the beauties of the scene 
Which nature paints with living green, 
With no sad thought to intervene, 

On that fair day. 



INKLINGS. 29? 

And when the sun declines to rest, 
Behind the azure-burnished west, 
With promise of to-morrow blest, 

And glim'ring ray- 
Calls Fancy to ascend her car, 
Pass through the space to some bright star, 
We then forget, while distant far, 

That summer day. 



And has not life its summer time, 
When ardent with its warmer clime, 
The bosom throbs its ans'ring chime, 

When youthful play 
Is placed aside for sterner joy, 
When man forgets his former toy 
Which pleased him most, while yet a boy, 

Ere summer day? 



Then Fortune too, that fickle maid, 
May throw upon his brow a shade 
Which like a summer cloud, may fade 

And pass away ; 
Then brighter will his sky appear, 
As distant fly some doubt and fear, 
And each loved object seem more dear 

Than summer day. 



298 INKLINGS. 

But autumn follows summer soon. 
As morning heralds in the noon, 
So summer loud proclaims the boon 

Which follows — yea, 
The gift in kindness it prepares, 
Divides and well the banquet shares, 
To soothe man's labor and his cares, 

On autumn day. 

The rich and varied autumn brings 
A thousand, sweet, delicious things, 
Borne from the past on swiftest wings, 

The ample pay 
For all man's former, active toil, 
While delving in the fertile soil ; 
As to the beard was ancient oil, 

So autumn day. 

The reapers shout the harvest home. 
With voice re-echoed from the dome 
On high, and man forgets to roam 

Or further stray, 
And joins the chorus of the song, 
The sinking cadence all prolong, 
While stars shine out upon the throng, 

That autumn day. 



INKLWGS. 299 



Then comes the yellow, withered leaf, 
Fit emblem of man's life, so brief. 
And frosted hopes changed into grief 3 

And silver gray, 
Well sprinkled in his auburn hair, 
Eeminds him that it has be^n fair, 
But now has come with all its care, 

Life's autumn day. 

In evening twilight's thoughtful time. 
In autum's retrospective clime, 
The mind reverts to fancy's chime, 

"When life was gay ; 
Ee-visits then the mould'ring urn, 
Where buried joys to dust return, 
And broken altars incense burn, 

On autumn day. 



From autumn rain comes winter snow, 
When piercing winds begin to blow, 
And as the white flakes thicker grow 

Around the sleigh, 
It glides along through arid seas. 
With white waves fashioned by the breeze ; 
A long, old debt with all its fees, 

Is winter day. 



300 INKLINGS. 

And jet, that day has pleasure new. 
Around the social hearth, a few, 
When converse sweet invites to view 

Forgotten — nay, 
The sleeping visions which recall, 
To fancy's bright and airy hall, 
The gallant hosts which disinthrall 

A winter day. 



Our fleeting lives like seasons pass ; 
How swiftly they do fly ! Alas, 
That we are so much like the grass ! 

We only stay, 
And vegetate through summer bloom ; 
In autumn time, lament the doom 
Which then consigns us to the gloom 

Of winter day. 

And when, at last, the withering storm, 

The face of nature may deform, 

And southern suns have ceased to warm, 

Then let us pray 
Sincerely for a last release, 
That we may be where storms will cease, 
And smiling plenty crown with peace, 

A winter day. 



INKLINGS. 301 



PARTING SONG. 



The time has come when we must part, 

Perhaps to meet no more ; 
But treasured safely in the heart. 

Is mem'rys golden store. 

When sun has set, and vesper hour 

Shuts out the glare of day, 
Oft will the mind resign its power, 

To fancy's genial sway. 

And we will gaze upon that star 
Which heralds in the night, 

And fondly think, though distant far, 
That friends are in our sight. 

And every petal of the spring, 

As it unfolds to air, 
Shall with it the remembrance bring, 

That all the past was fair. 

When in sleep's kind and sweet embrace. 

The fancy wanders free, 
It swift will pass beyond the space, 

A friendly face to see. 

14 



302 INKLINGS. 

Then we will join the long lost hand, 
In dreamy land of bliss, 

Where balmy airs breathe all the bland 
Delight of maiden's kiss. 

Let fortune frown, if friends Will smile 
And think upon us still, 

The thought shall weariness beguile, 
Our hearts with pleasure fill. 

We part, but hope to meet again, 
And soothe a lonely hour, 

With converse sweet, all free from pain, 
In smiling fortune's bower. 



SONG. 



There are deep fountains in the heart, 
From pure affection flowing ; 

And pleasure sweet, they do impart, 
A balm for ill bestowing. 

A priceless gem, for you and me, 
Within the breast is gleaming; 



INKLINGS. 303 



May we by faith the treasure see, 
The gem so brightly beaming. 

There is a light which well may shine, 
Where darkness ever sitting, 

Causes the weary to repine, 

"With shadows never flitting. 

Hope warbles then its blithest lay, 
When April tears are falling ; 

Yet frightened, it will never stay 
Where scenes are too appalling. 

Our motto, then, u seek out the wrong 
And see it gently righted ; 

The weak and feeble, make them strong, 
Crush not a hope when blighted." 



SONG. 



The world moves on with rapid stride, 
And ceaseless is its motion, 



304 INKLINGS. 

The smoothest life must downward glide 

Like river to the ocean ; 
So farewell, care, and farewell, strife, 

A truce to all commotion, 
While gliding down the stream of life, 

Whose waves are deep emotion ! 

J 
Our bark sits lightly on the wave, 

When winds are gently blowing, 
The tempest, who would wish to brave, 

Valor in vain bestowing ? 
Then we will court the pleasant gale, 

While we are bravely rowing, 
And to the wind will trim the sail, 

Glide with the stream when flowing. 



The siren song of hope will cheer 

The weary heart of sadness, 
The darkest vale of earthly fear, 

Must have one star of gladness. 
Were this not so, life's fevered cup 

Would bring the brain to madness 5 
Hope has a pleasure which all sup, 

To alternate with sadness. 



INKLINGS. 303 



TO A YOUNG LADY WHO REQUESTED ME TO 
WRITE " SOME VERSES." 



Time flies like courser on the plain, 
Like fair ships sailing on the main, 
Like swift drops coming in the rain — 

Time never sleeps. 
He leaves the weary to repose, 
Onward he flies and onward goes, 
Nor winks an eye when strong wind blows, 

Or maiden weeps. 

Since time is fleeting, art is long, 
Let us take courage and be strong, 
Something to do, which may belong 

To future time. 
Leave way-marks as we onward go, 
Which good on others may bestow. 
While seeking in this vale below, 

Some happy clime. 

If you, sweet Maidj were only near, 
And of me were in no great fear, 
I then might whisper in your ear, 
This gentle truth ; 



306 INKLINGS. 

There's nothing better far a man, 
Or any of the maiden clan, 
Than to get married, if they can, 
While in their youth. 



A MAIDEN EPISTLE. 



You may, dear Maid, think me too bold, 
But sure you will not think me cold, 

In writing thus to you ; 
So please excuse my hasty rhyme. 
If it intrude upon your time, 

Another's honest due. 

Your paper I received last night, 
And read it all by candle light, 

Well pleased to. see the verse 
Which comfort gives " to mourning friends," 
Directing to the love which blends 

With pity round the hearse. 



?f~ 



•' i 
Although with ton ad they greet, 

And fall upon the ear, 
Like sighing of the autumn breeze. 
When half the leaves are from the tre§s, 

And half remain in fear. 

Who has not felt that life is brief? 
Who has not felt for friends a grief, 

Friends in the silent tomb ? 
Ah me ! who would the grave unshroud, 
Around their sky throw earth's cold cloud 

And penitential gloom ? 

But I am in a doleful vein, 
In fact it was a doleful strain, 

Those verses brought to mind. 
Departed friends a tear may claim, 
Which we, when we become the same, 

Might wish with thoughts most kind. 

Blest be the social, cheering ray, 
Which turns our darkness into day. 

And warms the chilling air ! 
Blest be the sun of social worth, 
Which warms around the social hearth, 

Friendship serene and fair ! 



308 INKLINGS. 

We met and parted, and an hour 
Between, we passed in friendship's bower ; 

How soon it passed away ! 
Its thoughts return to cheer me now, 
While I recall a silent vow, 

There made at close of day. 

Why, on the dark cloud's brow is seen 
The rainbow's bright and golden sheen, 

And why, those thoughts return ! 
The bow of promise spans the storm, 
Gives to our thoughts a brighter form, 

From it the future learn. 

May not those thoughts, returned to bless^ 
To cheer us with one sweet caress, 

Dispel all present gloom, 
Point to the day when we may meet, 
And pass an hour which we may greet, 

Like that with fragrant bloom ? 

But I must close 'this hasty rhyme, 
(Your debtor now, for too much time, 

Perhaps for patience too,) 
With best respects for all your friends, 
And hopes, that heaven kindly sends 

All needful things to you. 



INKLINGS. 309 

SONNETS. 



SOLITUDE. 

There have been times when solitude was sweet 3 
When unobserved, the mind could travel back. 

Each old familiar friend with kindness greet, 
Eeview the scenes upon the winding track. 

I would not always live within a crowd, 
"With door closed safely against reflection, 
Securely barred from all self-inspection \ 

It may be well to think upon the shroud, 

The last farewell to kindred and to friends, 
That we more truly may prize the blessings 

Which heaven here in kindness to us sends ; 
And those remembered, friendly caressings 

May not withdraw our thoughts far from the King 

Who rules above, where we may hope to sing. 



LIGHT. 



While darkness was brooding over the earth 
And phantoms were flitting through all the air, 

Untimely then was the season of mirth, 
Lost to the sight was the form of the fair } 
14* 



310 INKLINGS. 

[Recalled no more was the dream of her worth, 

As specters of night passed on without care. 
Light comes to the world, the vision departs, 

And nature awakes from dreams to the truth ; 
The friend who returns, a pleasure imparts. 

Which fancy can not bestow on her youth. 
The first ray, which with the morning returns, 

Bears along its kind promise of gladness ; 
The last ray which on the western cloud burns, 

Has a lesson and moral of sadness. 



FRIENDSHIP. 

A noble ship was rocking on the tide, 

"With canvass spread to every passing breeze ; 
Over the waters did she gently glide, 

A careless crew were riding on the seas. 
Green isles gemmed the bosom of the ocean* 

And tropic fruit hung golden in the sun ; 
There were no signs of a great commotion, 

And life was happy as when first begun. 
There came a change, and wild winds were howling, 

And mountain waves were rolling on the deep ; 
Savage destruction seemed to be prowling, 

Until a gentle form was roused from sleep. 



INKLINGS, 311 

That form was Friendship, guiding on the crew, 
To safe retreats known only to a few. 



TO A FRIEND ON DEPARTING FOR CALIFORNIA. 

I would not say a word, or breathe a thought, 

Which might bring sadness on the parting hour, 
Or cloud that sky which you in fancy sought, 

Where wealth untold may give its envied power, 
By gently hinting, you may think cheap bought, 

Your own sweet home, for fancy-painted bower. 
Go, with your own strong will to do the right, 

And on the sea, may fair winds fill the sail, 
Unkind misfortune no sweet prospects blight, 

And winds show favor when they blow a gale! 
Go, with the best wish of a heart sincere, 

That fortune yet may speed your bark for home, 
With wealth, above the thought of want or fear, 

Beyond the wish, from friends again to roam I 



TO MARY. 



Numbers can add no sweetness to the name 
Which is adorned with all of maiden grace, 



312 INKLINGS. 

And modest worth can never envy fame 
Which paints the blushes on a smiling face. 

When among a thousand flowers, the rose 
Alone entices with its pure sweetness. 
Organs which are grateful for its meetness. 

The modest flowers will not come to blows ; 

Or if they should, they quickly will reveal. 
How sweet the odors from their pistils flash, 

Which they unable longer to conceal, 

Released from bondage by their one act rash. 

Alas, that flowers of the human form, 
So fair 3 must wither in the blighting storm ! 



THE FUTURE. 



The bee, with labor while the flowers bloom, 
Gathers its sweetness from the fields and groves, 

Yet how unconscious of its coming doom, 
As, hoarding sweet for future want, it roves ! 

Instinct seems bending all its force to send 

The bee where odors with gay beauty blend. 



INKLINGS. 313 

And would the flower blooming in the field, 
For which the dews of evening gently fall, 

Its sweetest incense with reluctance yield, 
If its gay summer and its death were all 

Perceived 1 Or would it wish to rove the air, 

Exhale its incense to some angel there? 

And would that bird which gayly sings the morn^ 
As from the bough it soars to greet the day, 

Wish to return to this poor world forlorn, 
To storms and sorrow chant its sweetest lay 1 

Or would it not soar on, ne'er to return \ 

Soar on, and on, and on, where seraphs burn ? 

Nature bestows a nobler gift on man, 

To guide his changing course while here below. 

To guard his bark when life's sea-breezes fan a 
And goodly counsel on his plans bestow. 

Reason the gift, which though an erring child, 

Is kind and dutiful, sedate and mild. 

Memory, Hope * and Fancy, in her train, 

"With many more, lead through a winding course, 

Nature's arcana now explore in vain, 
And then make known of nature's law the force. 

Reason directs them, or perhaps they might 

Run wild with passion, lose their way in night. 



314 INKLINGS. 

Conducting man to the plains of glory, 

"Where valor won the deathless wreath of fame. 

They charm him with some old, classic story ; 
Now this, then that, fair Reason learns to blame : 

And as he views the place where heroes died, 

He may repine their lot to him denied. 

Where senates have convened, he treads the aisles, 
The quiet walls seem eloquent to him ; 

The moss-grown tower in the sunset smiles, 
A patriarch smile in eve's twilight dim ; 

The aisle and tower, wrecks of human art, 

Each have a lesson which they may impart. 

While Memory is busy with her store, 

Gathered from every clime and age of earth, 

And with a single league around the shore, 

Which we have sailed, perhaps with joy and mirth ; 

Hope ever near, is pointing to an isle 

Where spring eternal greets us with a smile. 

And willing Fancy paints the distant scene, 
Which Hope discovered with exulting pride, 

With brooks and bowers, and a brighter green 
Than has adorned a hill or mountain-side ; 

And then she smiles with pleasure in her eye, 

Looks back and laughs, to think how Hope will cry. 



INKLINGS. 315 

Her gay companions. Reason vainly chides, 
Directing to the way which they have trod, 

In her own conscious purity abides, 

And trusts reposing on the arm of God ; 

While all her servile train reproved, draw near, 

And listen to the dictates which they fear. 

Man, no unkind spectator of the scene, 

Inquires of reason what the cause may be, 
That Fancy paints the isle so rich a green, 
And Hope its beauty can not plainly see. 
Reason says, u Fancy is a wayward child, 
Hope is near-sighted, but in manners mild. 

There is an isle, and if you more would know, 
Row on your boat to yonder point in view ; 

This is the most that I can now bestow, 
Hope is nearer than Fancy to the true. 

Row on your bonny boat while winds are fair, 

And of the future have not too much care. 

Fancy has gathered from the world around, 

A chin, a lip, a cheek, a brow, an eye, 
And in sweet union made with grace abound, 

A model never seen beneath the sky. 
Thus she delights to pass the fleeting time, 
Selecting beauties from some distant clime. 



316 INKLINGS. 

Hope is sedate, and yet a joyful child. 
And full of loye for every gentle friend ; 

Fancy sometimes imposes on the mild, 

"With gaudy colors which she well may send 

To some far distance, that they may not see 

Too well, and judge aright what it may be. 

Seek not to know the future, it would bring 
A thousand cares from which you now are free ; 

The knowledge of your fate would prove a sting, 
Which Hope with all her blindness, well might see. 

Improve the present, rest you on His arm 

Which moves the world, to shield you from all harm. 

If love alone ruled in the human breast, 
And kindred graces followed in its train, 

Man would be happy and his lot be blessed, 
And sorrows soothed would lose one-half their pain. 

Seek then, this sure antidote for sorrow, 

Borrow no more trouble of to-morrow." 

She ceased ; around her lips a smile was wreathed, 
Fancy and hope looked pensive in her sight, 

The very air around her which she breathed, 
Seemed redolent of nectarine delight ; 

And that smile, while it was from her straying, 

Seemed " like Luna on the water playing." 



INKLINGS. 317 

The vision slowly faded from my mind, 
But not the lesson which it sweetly taught ; 

To others' failings let me be not blind, 

But never ask my good will to be bought 5 

And for the future, trust to Him in love, 

Who kindiv sends us blindness from above, 



LINES WRITTEN ON VISITING NIAGARA FALLS, 



Oft have I dreamed of thee, when balmy slumbers 

Invite the vision to fair scenes again ; 
And then have wooed thee with some sweeter number^ 

To listen to the echoes of my strain. 
Could these feeble accents now wed the waters 

Which to the skies their ceaseless anthem raise ? 
They would be fairer than Italian daughters, 

And more deserving of eternal praise. 

They would be circled with the rainbow's glory, 
Which storms might brighten, but could never fade ; 

Their nuptials would become a classic story, 
And earth would sing the chorus for the maid. 



Opon the fiel i won, 

No fear would cause them ever to be weeping. 
And Nature's voice would soothe to rest her sen. 

No sickly fancy in that voice is wailing 

The dirge of fleeting joys now passed away ; 
No future prospect in its tone is failing 

To grant the boon for which poor mortals pray. 
No airy lightness in its tone, deriding 

The joys or sorrows of a summer hour ; 
No harshness in its voice is heard, dividing 

With love and scorn, thoughts <3f a rosy bower. 

That deep-toned voice forever is resounding, 

While earth and air reply to it again ; 
The white foam on the wave below is bounding, 

And hastening onward to the waiting main. 
Above, the mighty waters ever rushing 

To where the deep is waiting them below ; 
They come, they come, with music from them gushing, 

The ceaseless anthem which they now bestow. 

Man's puny arm may not forget its weakness, 
While it is trembling with that voice divine ; 

The haughty heart must be subdued to meekness, 
And to adore, must all his thoughts incline. 



INKLINGS 319 

The loudest ac ng, 

But droop and dw i speaks, 

While Nature's voice his weakness is appalling. 
Turning those efforts vain, to sickly freaks, 

The past and future are around it blending, 

Crowding the present with their swift array 5 
It speaks of hoary age and time unending, 

And man forgets the purpose of to-day. 
It tells of power, divine, supreme, eternal, 

Firm and resistless in its onward course ; 
Its distant whisper is the love supernal. 

Which guides and governs all its mighty force, 



LINES 



WRITTEN ON VISITING THE BATTLE-GROUND, NEAR 
STILLWATER, ON THE HUDSON RIVER. 



How still and peaceful is the scene around ! 

And from the quiet heights above, are seen 
Fair, rural prospects which with charms abound, 

Fields clothed with verdure in its gayest green. 



320 INKLINGS. 

Between the hills, in yonder lovely vale. 

The scene is curtained with a cloud like snow ; 

While Willard Mountain looms above the dale. 
Its base is lost among the clonds below. 

Those clouds go up to meet the morning sun, 

The landscape widens to the view, and then 
The noble Hudson, with its wreathes fresh won 

From fertile boughs, comes from its northern glen. 
Here comfort dwells, peace reigns and plenty smiles ; 

The cheerful farmer works his fertile fields, 
A winter evening now and then beguiles 

With story of the fruit his farming yields. 

Here 3 too, has waved the Banner of the Stars, 

And Freedom's sons have dared " to do or die," 
When from the conflict, fierce and bloody Mars 

Has sought in vain to make the heroes fly. 
Here rusty bullets, human bones are found ; 

Fractured skulls, and balls within them lying ; 
Thy trophies, War ! are found upon the ground, 

Remnants of the battle field and dying. 

The peaceful farmer, resting from his toil, 

With welcome greets the stranger to his home, 

Points to the place where blood enriched the soil, 
And bones are bleaching which no more will roam. 



INKLINGS. 321 

" In yonder field. Gates with his little band 
Prepared to watch with eagle eye the foe ; 

Near by, that meadow where low is the land, 
Burgoyne prepared to strike a deadly blow. 

Here, Arnold like an uncaged tiger raves ; 

There, active Frazer keeps his men in form, 
And every volley sends unto their graves, 

Scores who no more can breast the iron storm. 
Here, Morgan calls around his chosen host, 

Few, but a host, for they were heroes all 5 
Tells them that British valor long will boast 

This bloody field, where Freemen nobly fall. 

And now, he says, my brave men turn the tide, 

You know your duty, let it well be done ; 
This carnage fearful and this carnage wide, 

Must cease ere sinks to rest the western sun. 
The sequel of the fight you know full well, 

For it is written on the brightest page 
Of noble deeds, to make the bosom swell 

With valor's pride, the glory of the age. 55 

No war-clouds now are rolling o'er the field, 
No shriek of anguish rends the air in vain, 

No horse without a rider, with no shield 
From war's dread scourge } now prances on the plain* 



322 INKLINGS. 

The Past is sleeping with its mighty dead ; 

May mildest zephyrs fan its slumbers sweet, 
And never more may tyrants learn to dread 

The welcome bold, with which stern Freemen greet ! 



CHAPTER XXII, 



CLARENCE : 



A TALE OF NEW-YORK, 



Never will words express the praise 

Due to the gallant band, 
"Who cheer the weary with their lays, 

"While in a pilgrim land. 
To visit shrines, weep o'er the dust, 

"Which once with wizard pen, 
Could throw a charm around the bust 

Reared to the fame of men, 
Might solace give to him who weeps, 

Disperse his mournful fears \ 
For him who in the cold grave sleeps. 

Vainly are shed the tears. 



324 INKLINGS. 

A part of his immortal part. 
Survives this mortal wreck ; 

Death aimed a sure, but deathless dart. 
While him the Muses deck. 



Such thoughts as these passed through the active mind, 

And slumbered in the bosom of one, pale 
With anxious thought, who always was inclined 

To pity, more than blame, the weak and frail. 
He had been reading works of the great men 

Who had quaffed deeply from the fount of song, 
And lingered round the mount where human ken 

Fair scene surveys, and hills the notes prolong. 
He had been reading of fair stately groves, 

Their mossy banks, the murmur of their streams, 
Where wood-nymphs wander and take sweet repose, 

Where through the boughs the daylight softened gleams. 
He had caught splendid glimpses of the land 

Where fairies dwell, had heard high Jove's decree, 
And trembled round Olympus with the band, 

Which from all other power may be free. 



Round many inland streams and pleasant lakes, 
Where the Six Nations held disputed sway, 

And wild birds sported in the reeds and brakes, 
Or sang their notes in some secluded bay, 



INKLINGS. 325 

Unheard, excepting some lone forest son, 

Who, in pursuit of game had wandered there, 
And when the trophy of the chase was won, 

Turned to his wigwam, free from every care, — 
Round these same lakes and pleasant winding streams, 

How great the change which time has wrought ! No more 
The wild deer rises with day's early beams, 

Shakes off the pearly dew, springs to its store 
Of winter-green and moss and wild-wood flowers. 

No more the tawny maiden seeks a glen, 
Above, deep - woven into lovely bowers, 

Where she may hear, far from the haunts of men. 

The sturdy oak the woodman's ax brings low, 

The prospect widens to the view around, 
And while dark shades recede with every blow, 

Green fields and plenty soon the vision bound. 
One of these lakes, more lovely than the rest, 

Has gently sloping shores and islands green, 
Where Tenus might have wandered and been blest 

With visions fair as she has often seen. 
And when the winds did blow, the angry wave 

Would mimic loud the ocean's angry roar, 
Then in a little bay would calmly lave 

The sand and pebbles on the winding shore, 
While round, the fish-hawk watched its scaly prey, 

And eagles soared, unmindful of the gale. 
Here life passed like a gentle summer day, 

With Clarence fair, the hero of the tale, 
15 



326 INKLINGS. 

When weary with his books and pleasant home, 

How sweet to wander with his dog and gun, 
About the fields, and in the woods to roam, 
As free from care as yonder shining sun ! 
He traces from the lake each little brook, 

Through field and meadow to some upland tarn, 
And then reposes in some quiet nook, 

"Where Homer ? s nymphs might once have spun their yarn. 
The partridge and the rabbit are the game 
Which he pursues with varying success ; 
His faithful Fido ; now and then to blame, 

Between to praise, makes him a friend to bless, 
Beside some bubbling fountain he reclines, 

Where mossy bank spreads round a couch of ease, 
And while no wayward thought his soul repines, 
Pours forth his song to fountain, air and trees- 
While birds their notes are singing, 
Which through the woods are ringing* 

My voice shall join the song \ 
And gentle zephyrs sighing, 
While birds above are flying, 
Shall bear the notes along, 

While water-falls are gushing, 
And onward ever rushing, 
With ceaseless music too; 



INKLINGS. 327 

Who would not join the chorus 
To heaven bending o'er us, 
And pleasure try to woo ! 

Away with dull to-morrow, 
For it may bring some sorrow, 

Unknown to all, to-day ; 
Then while the sun is shining, 
"Who, who would be repining ? 

To-morrow may be gay. 

To fields and woods is fleeting, 
The summer time of greeting, 

And autumn follows soon ; 
Then while the air is wreathing 
A song with every breathing, 

Enjoy the happy boon ! 

When the sun tints the western clouds with gold 

And purple, changing to a thousand shades, 
How welcome to the hunter is the fold 

Of home, where the long day's fatigue soon fades 3 
Like the last rays of the departing sun ! 

Food, friends and home revive him, and again 
The splendid trophy of the chase is won, 

While he relates his ramble on the plain. 
And when the stars shine out upon the night, 

Repose succeeds the bustle of the day, 



328 INKLINGS. 

And softened moon-beams throw a quiet light 
On objects round, which have been seen to play, 

And now are hushed in silence, how sweet then 
Is balmy slumber ! Then the spirit land 

Crowds on his vision, from each shady glen, 
Forth issue shapes which fancy paints most grand. 

And while he travels in the land of dreams, 

How fact and fancy mingle in array ! 
"What he has seen and heard, in memory gleams, 

And fancy gilds it with some great display. 
The hero of his waking thought, is seen 

To stride majestic through an airy hall, 
"With fairies dance upon some lovely green, 

When night winds sigh, with sudden wound to fall. 
As dews refresh the flowers of the field, 

And add fresh fragrance to their odors sweet, 
So slumbers fair, re-animate and yield 

A vigor new, give wings to care's slow feet. 
Hail, balmy slumber of the realm of night, 

Unfabled Lethe of which poets sing ! 
Long may thy peaceful sway o'er care and blight, 

A fancied comfort to the humble bring ! 

From him who upward once has fixed his eye, 
Upon some hill or rugged mountain brow, 

All care and danger in his pathway fly, 
While he performs his sweetly cherished vow. 



INKLINGS. 329 

The prospect widens to his onward view, 

Until from lofty summit he surveys 
The scene around, known only to a few. 

Field after field in endless maze, displays 
New beauties to the sight ; the distant plain 

The herd is grazing ; here and there is seen 
A cottage white, and round it fields of grain ; 

And over all, a shade of varying green, 
Disparted by a river's winding way, 

On which he seems to see a painted sail, 
So distant and uncertain is the ray 

Borne to the vision through the gentle gale. 

Thus to young Clarence seemed life's real scene, 

While health and friends and competence abound ; 
A golden sunshine seemed to intervene 

And throw gay tints on every object round. 
The care, the trouble and the strife of life, 

Seemed better in the distance to the eye, 
And the loud brawls with which the world is rife, 

Sunk to a murmur or a low-breathed sigh. 
He knew life must have its weary trouble, 

While floating down its ever restless stream, 
But thought it must be an empty bubble, 

Which, ere it bursts, displays a rainbow gleam, 
Hope whispered, the world is fair, if fleeting ; 

He wished it so, and sang a cheerful lay, 
To loved home a kind, responsive greeting, 

For happy hours passed there on many a day. 



330 INKLINGS. 

Home of my childhood, where the deep wild-wood 
Has echoed a voice that was free from all care ; 

Fair are thy bowers, fragrant the flowers 
Exhaling their sweets on the fresh morning air ! 

While the birds singing, their thanks are bringing, 
For returning sunshine, for life and for love ; 

My heart shall never, from their notes sever, 
But around them fly always like a lone dove. 

Home where the weary find nothing dreary. 

"Where comfort smiles and where life friendship blesses ; 
If care should beset, who then could forget 

Life's pleasant morn and a mother's caresses I 



Round it are clinging, while time is winging, 
With the seasons its way, with them to return, 

Hopes ever cherished, even when perished 

The altar on which their sweet incense did burn. 



Sweet home of my youth, where friendship and truth 
Will love to revisit the scenes of the past ; 

Never, never, from thee shall sever [last! 

The thoughts which may slumber while life's sands may 

When winds were fair and clouds were rarely seen, 
And drooping willows on the verdant shore, 



INKLINGS, £31 

With their rich tapestry and banks of green, 

Were mirrored on its surface ; when no more 
The murmur of the waves was heard around, 

Xo more the lake seemed like a costly pearl 
Rich set in emerald ; when birds abound 

Upon its surface, and their constant whirl 
And sportive motion, loud declare their joy — 

Then Clarence rambles to the bay, and boat 
Which there awaits him, splendid as a toy 

Which on some pictured water loves to float ; 
Unmoors the tiny boat, spreads the white sail, 

And while he slowly moves over the bay, 
Wooes Notiis, Zephyr, for a gentle gale 

To speed him onward in his trackless way. 

About a league from shore, some green isles shine, 

A lovely cluster, where the stately tree, 
The thick underwood and the creeping vine 

Look out upon the water, bold and free. 
The shores are gently sloping, and the land 

Raised like some huge wave of the raging sea 
And fastened there, wild, yet reposing, grand, 

Looks the abode where exiles sigh to be. 
To one of these, he guides his bonny boat, 

Wavelets pursue each other in its course. 
Until a little harbor not remote, 

Opens to view, where free from all the force 
Of angry winds, the boat may rest secure. 



332 INKLINGS. 

Hither he turns the prow, speeds on with joy, 
And with the prospect makes himself too sure 
Of tasting bliss without one sad alloy. 

How he first came there, is small worth to know; 

He might have landed to procure some bait 
To catch the fishes, where the gentle flow 

Of waves enticed him many hours to wait 
The result of his venture ; and he might 

Have sought, to see this green and lovely isle, 
So fair, inviting to the distant sight, 

Where nature seemed to wear its sweetest smile. 
The squirrel leaps from bough to leafy bough, 

The startled rabbit pauses quick to hear, 
Gay-plumaged birds upon the wing are now 

Returning song for song, without one fear. 
He listens to the music, and the note 

Of dulcimer is borne upon the air ; 
With the thousand voices mingling, which float, 

And drown the thoughts of tantalizing care. 

He hastens to a cottage through the grove, 

Where Julia waits to greet him with a smile, 
Where arm in arm they hope again to rove. 

And cheer each other through a winding mile. 
Grapes in thick clusters grow around the door, 

And tropic fruit is raised with gentle care, 
Comfort and plenty here have goodly store, 

The maid, the flowers and the scene are fair. 



INKLINGS. 333 



In converse sweet, they visit half the earth, 

Re-people cities where the mouldering urn 
Scarce tells the period of their ancient birth, 

"Where in sad silence they to dust return; 
And then to chase a shadow from his brow, 

Takes her guitar, and with gentle finger, 
Touches the strings, sings of a lover's vow, 

While sweetness in all her tones may linger. 



When stars on high are shining 
And lovers' sighs are new, 

Who then would be repining, 

Or for himself designing 

What never can be true ! 



When birds to mates are singing, 
Through all the leafy grove, 

And on the air are ringing, 

Their thanks which now are bringing 
No thought of wish to rove ; 

Why should the soul feel sadness, 

Pine in its prison cell ! 
When all around is gladness, 
Without a touch of sadness, 

From rock or hill or dell. 

15* 



334 INKLINGS, 

Life has its sunny morning, 

All free from pain and care ; 
And why should we be scorning 
The floral train adorning 

Life's pathway bright and fair ! 

Forgetting thoughts of sorrow, 
With hope loye still delights ; 

Then think not of to-morrow, 

From it no sadness borrow, 
A present joy to blight ! 

The sound still lingers on his ravished ear, 

"When eager to beguile the passing time, 
She leads him to a store, a treasure near, 

The strange and antique, brought from every clime. 
On one side of the long and spacious hall, 

The cities of the east in order stand, 
Opposed to this, even the solid wall 

Seems burdened with strange products of the land. 
Here Chinamen perform the juggler's charm. 

While birds from summer isles sing their sweet lays. 
There, grinning tigers which no more can harm, 

Hang by a tooth, or stand erect for praise. 
A Grecian beauty in a corner placed, 

Lacks nothing but a breathing soul within, 
While near a pirate, each by contrast graced, 

Girdled with dirks, looks fair and false as sin. 



INKLINGS. 335 

Insects and reptiles, many curious stones 

From distant lands, were here preserved with care, 
From monsters cf the deep, here were bones, 

Each asking- from observing eye a share. 
A man of noble mien and gentle life, 

Owned the fair isle and plowed each narrow field, 
He, with his lovely and confiding wife, 

Made all around them some new comfort yield. 
Fair Julia had been with them from a child 

And never known the orphan's bitter tears, 
Sedate in manner, and in feeling mild, 

Time gently passed, all free from lonely fears. 
She was their child, and they were parents kind. 

To whom she looked for kindness and for love, 
To every fault and folly always blind, 

Where she could nestle like a weary dove. 

Who would not leave ambition's rugged steep, 

"Where cold winds whistle and where whirlwinds play, 
Where disappointed hopes in silence weep 

The lonely prospect in life's weary way, 
And where success feeds on the silent tears 

Forced from the orphan's writhing, bleeding heart, 
For whom the world has lost its goading fears, 

And smiles on earth no more can bliss impart ; 
Who would not leave the laurel wreath of fafcne, 

Forget to woo the Muses with his song, 



} INKLINGS. 

Content to live and die without a name, 

And think the present did him little wrong, 

If he could live in scenes of bliss like these, 
"With health and competence to cheer his life. 

With friends around, to soothe him and to please, 
And calm the anguish of the distant strife ! 



When moon-beams kiss the water, and each star 

Adds a mild luster to the night serene, 
And time rolls onward in its azure car, 

Though small the distance which may intervene, 
The guest, the friend and lover takes his way, 

With brief, kind words at parting, and he then 
Treads on with haste to the secluded bay, 

Fearing to wake some echo of the glen ; 
With sail and oar pursues his onward course, 

While island shadows quickly disappear, 
Then moving forward with a gentler force, 

While he approaches to his own home near, 
Pours forth a flood of song upon the night, 

Which starts the whippowil from its retreat, 
And backward on the wave, rolls like the light 

Of distant moon, which day will soon defeat. 

Behind the western hills the sun has sunk to rest, 
Now the stars are shining from regions of the blest, 
The queen of night is ruling it must be confessed, 
With a gentle splendor, like one who rules the best. 



INKLINGS. 337 

My bony boat is rocking now upon the wave, 
"Which soon the smooth pebbles upon the shore will lave ; 
never may that gentle wave in madness rave 
Around my bonny boat, when winds refuse to save ! 

And when Neptune may move over the gentle lake. 
In the breeze wave his locks and his old trident_shake, 
May he no gentle naiad from her slumber wake. 
Causing pleasant visions her slumber to forsake ! 

When drooping eye-lids close, and happy visions bright 
Are fading and returning with the breath of night, 
Who knows but kindred spirits may then re-unite, 
And roam in blissful regions of the mental sight ! 

Now while the busy world has drowned its care in sleep, 
And sorrow has forgotten its sad tears to weep, 
And stars are imaged on the bosom of the deep, 
Who could not, in the land of dreams, a harvest reap ? 

My bonny Jboat will soon be moored safe in the bay, 
To rock upon the wave when I have done my lay, 
There safely to remain until return of day, 
While I in dreams unite with those not far away. 

To all the world a happy night, a pleasant dream, 
Until the sun re-visits all with cheering beam ; 



338 



INKLINGS. 



And while we float, with wind and tide, on life's fair stream, 
May hope's bright ray, far on the way before us gleam ! 

From teachers, friends and books, Clarence had known 

Life's great drama, but on the world's wide stage 
Had never seen it acted ; time had flown 

With too much pleasure in his early age, 
For him to note more than his fancy drew 

To please a summer day ; time passed away 
Like shadows of the bird which o'er him flew 

And in the pasture with the lamb did play ; 
Or like the music of his native rill, 

Now in silver tones, then in murmurs flung 
To the breeze, which the vacant air may fill ; 

And time was fair, even where shadows hung. 
Lank, haggard want had never crossed his path, 

And when the dirge of the departing year. 
Wailed on the gale, or tempests winged with wrath, 

Flew on their course, he felt secure from fear. 

Manhood was written on his brow, his eye 

Sparkled with quick perception, and his face 
Was index to a heart where love might sigh, 

And all its secret windings, fearless trace. 
Parents persuaded, eager friends inclined 

His fancy to the world, that he might know 
Whatever could be added to th? mind 

And on the manner gracefulness bestow. 



INKLINGS. 339 

To see the people of his native land. 

Its lofty mountains and its forests wild, 
Its winding rivers, beautiful and grand, 

And the wide prairie where the verdure smiled ; 
To visit cities on the sounding shcre 

Of hoarse old Ocean, and to hear the din 
Of busy commerce, restless evermore ; 

To see and hear, he sure might something win. 

Sad is the parting scene ; a mother's tears, 

A father's kind farewell, a neighbor's voice, 
A thousand hopes now changed to sudden fears, 

A smile, a tear, without control or choice, 
Are graven on his mind ; and deeper yet, 

The parting scene with her who was ever 
Enshrined within his heart. Could he forget 

The ties which nothing on earth could sever ! 
Could he forget his early dream of bliss, 

Of heaven, where she would be the peerless queen ! 
Could he forget the rapture of that kiss, 

"When they last parted in a bower of green ? 
Time other change may bring, but in the heart 

Which truly loves, change is a thought of scorn 3 
And only lingers, that it may impart 

New life to love, on each returning morn. 

Eighteen summers had added to her face 

Their bloom, and to her mind their treasured store. 



340 INKLINGS. 

She was gentle, adorned with all the grace 

Which to her sex belongs ; while from the shore 
She gently glided in her bonny boat, 

The floating swan scarce moved the water less, 
And her clear notes upon the wave would float 

Like dreams of music sent on earth to bless. 
Often, when her thoughts were tinged with sadness, 

A gentle word or gesture, or a smile, 
Her spirit would seem to light with gladness, 

All thoughts of sorrow from her to beguile. 
Few try to cheer the hapless orphan's lot ; 

The smile, the gentle word of one, no more 
Is seen and heard, but is not yet forgot, 

In her lone rambles on the island shore. 

Who now will come to cheer me, 
Who now will soon be near me, 

Alone, alone ! 
Who now will check the sighing, 
And speed the time while flying ; 

Not one, not one ! 

Moments on wings so weary 
Are flying, while so dreary 

Is time, is time ! 
had I wings to bear me 
Where sorrow more might spare me, 

A clime, a clime ! 



INKLINGS. 341 

Now in the early morning, 
When incense is adorning 

The air, the air ; 
Why should a maid be pining. 
When all beyond defining, 

Is fair, is fair ! 

Love has its tie and token, 
Which never can be broken 

Again, again ; 
Then why should youth or beauty 
Forget what is a duty 

So plain, so plain I 

Still hoping and still waiting, 
The future oft debating, 

No more, no more ; 
Doubts never more shall cheat me, 
And of my hopes defeat me, 

In store, in store ! 

Week followed week, month into month did glide. 

And still the traveler pursued his way, 
The various places where he might abide, 

Unknown, unnoted, as time passed away, 
Save now and then, when hill, and plain, and fields 

Or mountain pointing to the boundless sky, 



342 INKLINGS. 

With sweet attraction some new pleasure yield, 

And thoughts of home a moment may defy; 
Or when the ocean on some rock-bound shore, 

Restless, complaining as it rolls along, 
Bears in its murmurs, heard forever more, 

The key-note of a soul which suffers wrong ; 
Or when the stars shine out upon the night, 

Reminding him where he had been before. 
And gazed upon them with serene delight, 

The thought of which he sadly must deplore. 

Bright as the bow which spans the summer storm, 

Sweet as the incense of the dewy spring, 
Fair as the fancy paints a lovely form, 

Which queenly grace to all around may bring, — 
So bright, sweet, fair, was every thought of home, 

To him, who, once an exile from his friends, 
Turned there the footsteps which no more may roam, 

To seek the blessings friendship only sends. 
The soft, smooth phrase of welcome, on his ear 

Had not the welcome sound which there may dwell, 
And find an echo in the heart ; the tear, 

The glance, the sigh, he knew their language well. 
The world had joys he did not wish to taste, 

And sorrows, too, he did not wish to know ; 
To him the world was all a barren waste, 

Compared with home, where peaceful comforts flow. 



INKLINGS. 

The gentle murmur of his native lake. 

Strikes on his ear, he quickly turns his ere 
Where one reposes who will not forsake. 

Though all around should from his presence fly. 
The white-winged boat soon skims along the wave, 

And quickly turns to its accustomed place. 
And Clarence, leaping where the waters lave 

His feet upon the pebbles, with a face 
Beaming with joy and hope, and eagle glance, 

Pursues his narrow, leafy, winding way, 
While half the green leaves in the wind may dance. 

On that sweet morning in the month of May ; 
Lingers a moment at the cottage door, 

Enters with greeting as in former time, 
Breathes with delight the balmy air of yore, 

More fragrant far than any foreign clime, 

Again they visit the fair, leafy grove, 

Each lovely place where they had been before ? 
Rehearse the past and gently onward rove, 

While golden moments yet remain in store. 
Fair Julia listens with a modest mien 

To hear his travel's story ; he closes, 
While tell-tale blushes on her face are seen, 

And parted lips are like budding roses, 
As summer clouds are painted with the light 

Which falls upon them from the spacious sun, 



344 INKLINGS. 

And changed to thrones with crimson curtains bright. 
Where empires to the gazing eye are won, — 

So hope, the future gilds with its array, 
While faithful Julia lingers by his side, 

On that most happy and eventful day. 

When they returned, she an affianced bride. 

Let the the floral wreath be brought, 
And the peerless maid be sought, 

Gently by his side, 
Who now has vowed to cherish, 
'Till life itself shall perish, 

His sweet blooming bride. 



Weave into her auburn hair, 
Lilies white and roses fair, 

And her glowing face 
Shall rival them in sweetness, 
While in its lovely neatness, 

Care has left no trace. 



Hail her welcome with a kiss, 
Wish long life and earthly bliss 

To be her fair lot ; 
For sure the world is better, 
For one who is no debtor, 

To kindness forgot. 



INKLINGS. 345 



To the bridegroom drink a healthy 
That he long may live with wealth, 

And bliss may allure 
"With sweetness and with beauty, 
Which love to cherish duty, 

With life and heart pure. 

May health and bliss attend them, 
And angels kind defend them 

From each wily snare, 
While they travel together, 
Throug storm and pleasant weather. 

Regardless of care, 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



"OH! TAKE THE HARP!" 



I would not rudely touch the string 

Which vibrates for another's ear, 
Or one sad thought to memory bring, 

Or o'er the future, one sad fear. 
The Harp should tell of hope and love, 

All noble passions of the soul, 
Should linger round it like the dove 

Of Noah's ark, when deep waves roll. 



But when the harper feels the pain 
Of fading memories on the heart, 

"When in Hope's temple lay the slain 

Which once a sunshine could impart,— 



INKLINGS. 347 

A pensive gloom will sweep the strings 

Which have been tuned to love's sweet lay. 

And darkly tinge the thought which brings 
The past along in its array. 



I would not thoughtless touch the string 

"Whose gentle tones may thrill the soul, 
When master hand from it may fling 

The sweetness it can not control. 
But when along life's path afar. 

Are seen sweet flowers blooming fair, 
Though it may dim hope's morning star, 

Let truth and duty both be there. 



Were mine the power, as is the will, 

To hush the discord and the strife, 
With peace and love the world to fill, 

And banish sorrow far from life. — 
Then I would " take the Harp" and sing 

Till echo wearied with the lay, 
While Fancy on her gayest wing, 

Was plumed for flight to endless day. 



348 INKLINGS. 



TO HELEN. 



You never yet have aimed a shaft 

From Cupid's bow, at me, 
Nor with the bonny poet craft 

Have sent a verse to sea. 
Which, like the cat the sailor took. 

To catch the rats and mice, 
—Fierce, plenty fierce in every look. 

To fright them in a trice, — 
Was taken to a far-off isle, 

Where rats were large and strong, 
And caught by them with subtile guile, 

Their own days to prolong. 
Well, let that pass, and Cupid too, 

With his bow and quiver, 
And jolly face, with which to woo 

Hearts which he may shiver. 
Suppose we try to be good friends, 

And let the rest all go ; 
The greatest blessing Heaven sends 

To mortals here below. 



INKLINGS. 349 



TO EMELIXE. 



Fair maiden of the auburn hair 

And beaming eye of heaven's blue, 
Can verse or song make you more fair, 
Relieve you from one present care? 
Or knowledge give to you ? 

Yet take this token from a friend, 

Too frail memento long to last, 
And wake the mind to times which blend 
With pleasant thoughts which long will lend 
A sunshine to the past. 

Frail is the bark in which we sail 

Over.life's fair and stormy sea ; 
Sometimes, perchance, we feel the gale, 
And then the wind will almost fail ; 
Such, life must ever be. 



When winds are mild, without his skill, 
The bark glides easy in its course, 
But when dark storms forebode some ill, 
The anxious breast with danger fill, 
We trust the pilot's force. 
16 



350 INKLINGS. 

Though wrecks are strown along the shore 

And hidden rocks beneath the boat, 
"We hope to come to port once more. 
With every wish in goodly store. 
To harbor safely float. 

"What winds ma/y force us from the way 

And grievous care on us bestow, 
Rusting the heart with their delay. 
Assuming o'er us all their sway, 
Is not for us to know. 

Yet we will hope, and hope the bestj. 
Confiding in His ceaseless care ; 
For storms obey His high behest I 
Hope that we ever may be blest 
And life be ever fair. 



THE ANEMONE. 



"While yet on hills and northern slopes, 
The snow-bank may be seen, 

Spring's early germ with cold wind copes 
And dots the field with green. 



INKLINGS. 351 



And in the woods the flower springs 
To meet the sun's warm ray, 

And freshness with its beauty brings. 
To chase the hours away. 

Fairest of all the floral train 

"Which then the eye can meet, 

Whose changing hues are not in vain, 
Anemone we greet. 

If "frailty" is its language true, 

It likewise tells to me, 
With pureness of the morning dew, 

Where truth and love may be. 



TO MARY. 



As standing on some verdant hill, 
The weary trav'ler lingers still, 
With pensive eje f 



52 INKLINGS. 

To view the plain below, where lay 
His journey through a changing day, 
While twilight lingers round his way 
And night-winds sigh ; 

Thus I look back upon the past, 
To skies which once were overcast 

With no dark cloud ; 
To brooks whose gushing music fell 
In silver tones adown the dell ; 
To storms which made its music swell, 

And sweet as loud. 

The lawn around him may be green, 
Fair birds upon the boughs be seen, 

He heeds them not : 
The plain where once the sun shone bright 
And touched his bosom with delight, 
He yet can see, when all is night 

Around his cot. 

Let fickle Fortune frown or smile, 
The past shall weariness beguile, 

Disperse the gloom 
Which clouds the path in which we stray 
And turn its darkness into day, 
With tear or smile still light the way 

Unto the tomb. 



I1SKLINGS. 353 

And when the chain which binds us here. 
Shall free us from our present sphere. 

May we not roam, 
"Where kindred spirits love to meet, 

h heart-felt smiles a welcome greet, 
Where soul with soul mav mingle sweet 

Around its home ? 



CHE LADY AND BOUQUET. 



How fair a wreath upon the brow, 
This floral gift would make, 

Where pink and rose are twining now, 
Pure as the fresh snow-flake ! 



Its fragrance sweet, a nosegay too, 

Exhales upon the air ; 
And while we breathe, it seems to woo 

Our senses to the fair. 



354 INKLINGS. 

It tells of gentleness and worth, 
And woman's holy love, 

In silent tones, unmixed with mirth ; 
Sweet message of a dove ! 

"Who would not wish that such a gem 
Might never know decay 1 

Who would not wish a diadem 
Bestowed without delay ? 



FOR A FRIEND IN SICKNESS. 



Friend of my early days, and later years ! 

Why droops the wing of fancy in its flight, 
Which once could bear thee up above the fears 

Which cloud the prospect of a starless night ? 
Clouds vanish, and again upon the sight, 

The stars return to greet us with a ray, 
Which cheers, because we love the gentle light, 

Far better than the glare of rising day, 
Which, on the shadows of the night, still seems to play. 



INKLINGS. 355 

Dear friends have gone before us to the land 

Where love and beauty shall forever dwell ! 
And while where they have been, we yet may stand, 

And in us feel what mortal may not tell, 
Crushed spirit listening to its own death knell. — ■ 

Let us remember that a hand unseen 
May beckon en ward to an unscathed dell, 

Where bliss may sweetly smile in arbors green, 
And hope, no more from disappointment, learn to glean. 

Friend of my early days, friend of my youth ! 

Few have your days been ; do you also find 
That they are evil, that the young heart's truth 

May feel a siroc 5 from the world to blind 
Its untaught vision, that the very mind 

May have its keenness dulled with pain and care, 
And where confiding you have looked for kind 

And true companions to assist and share, 
Was perched the ceaseless-croaking raven of despair ? 

Lean not too much on earth, a broken reed, 

Which often has been known to pierce the hand 
Which leans upon it ; let the present feed 

But little on the past ; the blissful land, . 
Where fragrant zephyrs are forever bland, 

Is yet unknown ; and for the future, yield 
To Him your trust 5 who only can command 

Your hopes and fears, and who alone will shield 
From temnest's wrath, the humble lily of the field. 



356 INKLINGS. 



PRATT'S FALLS. 



On the west Branch of Limestone Creek, in the 
town of Pompey, Pratt's Falls are located. They are 
more like a mountain gorge than a river cataract. 
When the stream is large, the various little projec- 
tions in the surface of the rocks, change the water 
into a white foam in its descent ; but in the dry sea- 
son, the water drops from the moss and smooth sur- 
face of the rocks, or leaps in tiny rills from point to 
point. The Falls are about the height of Niagara. 



Nature is lovely in a thousand forms 

Which she presents to man. The eye and ear 
Perceive in sunshine and in changing storms, ■ 

Something still left to please ; and when the cheer 
Of sweet perfume follows the storm-wind near. 

The smile is deeper than the frown before, 
For joy is sweeter that is tinged with fear, 

And we forget the tempest to deplore, 
And hope on crippled wing, still tries again to soar. 

"When vertic sun pours clown its melting rays, 
The school-boy hastens to some lone retreat, 



INKLINGS. 357 

Where cool shades invite ; there, long, summer days 

Pass swiftly by, while meditation sweet 
Pursues the hours retreating with winged feet. 

Or eye turned upward gazes on the sky, 
Where the hawk cleaves the air, until the fleet 

And trusty wings have borne to clouds on high, 
His spacious home, this monarch of the airy sky. 



Then come the songs of birds to chase away 

The fleeting moments, and the winding streams 
Murmur between, their gentle roundelay, 

Which soothes, exalts, refines the mind to dreams 
Of bliss, of heaven, where on the vision gleams 

The true and lovely ; then descend again, 
To where the light which on the vision beams, 

Is the reflection from an icy plain, 
Where birds forget to sing their own sweet, native strain, 

In ardent childhood, I have listened long 

To wicked, Indian tales of blood which dare 
Belief — have listened to Wyoming's song 

Of savage warfare — have seen the red glare 
On the bannered storm ; then, when all was fair, 

Have turned to yonder Falls with childish glee, 
Where curling mist the wind may gently bear, 

And thought some Indian chief, I there might see. 
Whose wigwam was below, and smoke ascended free. 
16* 



358 INKLINGS. 

Productive fields to labor now will yield: 

A fair return, where you may lift the pall 
Of seventy years, and see the forest shield 

The red man's lonely hut, from storms which fall 
Upon the sighing pines, his only hall, 

And park where roam the native elk and deer— 
The breastwork where the earth was made a wall, 

To shield the warrior in the hour of fear — 
And triumph dancing round the captive's lonely bier. 

Like the swift arrow from the archer's bow, 

Like the dim specter of a dream of night, 
Or the swift flowing of the stream below, 

Time passes on, and glides away from sight ; 
But fancy halts, and with creative might, 

Returns to youthful scenes of other times, 
And throws around its own magician light, 

"When cascades sung their sweetest, silver chimes, 
And day-dreams mingled all, with fair, Elysian climes. 

Through the wild forest and the tangled glen, 

Where the breeze whispers, and the heart may learn 
From nature's converse sweet, untaught by men — 

Where Flora loves to bloom and seems to spurn 
The hand of culture — where wild bush and fern 

Alternate mingle, I have traveled far, 
And listened to the song which would return 

Upon the breeze, when there were none to mar 
The scene, till glimmered through the trees, the evening star. 



INKLINGS. 359 

And I have loved in gentle summer-time, 

To roam around the Falls, increase my store 
Of rural love, and hear the drowsy chime 

"Which soothed the fever of my bosom's core, 
And bathe my temples in the misty lore 

Which seems to float through all the humid air ; 
And grown familiar. I have loved them more, 

Until with me. myself they seem to share, 
And with them, fancy weaves bright visions of the fair. 



FOR A FRIEND, AFTER A LONG ABSENCE. 



Well met. old friend ! how fare you, now 1 
Methinks a line is on your brow, 
"Written since we have made a bow, 

Long time ago ; 
A line which registers a vow. 

Is it not so ? 



We often sung, in life's sweet May, 
And rambled in the shade for play, 



360 INKLINGS. 

And plucked the wild rose by the way, 

"Without a thought. 
That time would cloud our sunny day, 

Or bring to naught. 

Where have you been, so long a time ? 
You have not been a making rhyme, 
You must have traveled in some clime, 

New things to see ; 
Perhaps, like one without a dime 

For you or me. 

Ah well ! the dimes will roll down hill ! 
So let them go, if go they will ; 
An empty pocket, we will fill 

With bread and cheese ; 
And let the miser hold on still, 

To dimes and fleas. 

J too have changed ! well let it pass ! 
All flesh is like the summer grass, 
Which must be withered in a mass, 

By Time's old scythe. 
We could not feel, if we were brass, 

And be thus blithe. 

It does me good, to see and hear 
An old friend to my bosom dear. 



INKLINGS. 361 



One who has shared a hope and fear. 

In younger days ; 
Like to the light, when cloud is near. 

Which round it plays. 



THE UNION. 



Once on a time, as stories tell. 

While reading what had happened well, 

And what sad accidents befell 

Folks here and there, 
In tones as clear as any bell 

Hung in the air ; 

One corner of the paper told, 

In accents fair, and full, and bold, 

And like the shepherd with his fold, 

In friendship's guise, 
Of cutting loose the bonds which hold 

The States, as wise. 

It said, our land was very great, 
And had been destined by the fate 



362 INKLINGS. 

Which doomed the greatest olden state, 

To rule and fall ; 
And spoke of strife which kindled hate 

In kindred hall. 

The North and South, the East and West, 
Each was a country which was blest, 
In its own way, with all the best 

Which could be found ; 
And to the other was a guest, 

As such, was bound. 

It told — I can not tell you all, 

So many things, both great and small, 

In accents smooth as those which fall 

From Fancy's tongue ; 
And varied as the mock-bird's call, 

The trees among. 

The feet, the hands, the head and heart, 
All form a whole, yet each, a part, 
With wit, not wisdom, and with art, 

Might well complain, 
When reckless spirits bring to mart, 

Such vile disdain. 

All men are brothers, and when man 
Shall learn this mighty truth to scan, 



INKLINGS. 363 



And one the other cease to ban, 

Then peace will smile, 
And plenty hunger's brow will fan, 

And want beguile. 

Peace, Union, Brotherhood, will cheer 
Our onward course, from year to year, 
Give us no cause a foe to fear, 

And make us feel, 
The Gordian knot which holds us near, 

A common weal. 

Unfurl our banner to the air, 
Let Union be our motto fair, 
"Within an Olive wreath, to share 

With all mankind, 
Peace and good will \ and let none dare 

To think us blind. 

Union, shall sing Atlantic wave, 
And Allegany mount shall crave 
The signal, till the Mammoth cave 

Kepeat again, 
Where plains the western rivers lave, 

The same sweet strain. 

Ozark shall listen, and then sing 
The Union song, until the wing 



364 INKLINGS. 

Of western wind shall onward bring. 

To western wave ; 
Pacific, then, her answer fling, 

"When billows rave. 

Isles of the sea shall hear the sound, 
And all the lands where men abound, 
Until the spacious earth around. 

The chorus roll ; 
And peace, good will, shall then be found, 

From pole to pole. 



ACROSTICAL SONNET. 



May is that genial time of all the year, 

In which fresh buds breathe sweetly on the air ; 

So it may be with life, when without fear, 

Sings Hope, the charmer, to the young and fair ; 

And like the April rain, even the tear, 

Now makes young Hope look fresh and free from care. 

None may forget the spring-time of the heart, 

Because young hopes, like flowers in the spring, 

Can only once their fragrant sweets impart. 



INKLINGS. 365 



0, who would not return again and bring, 
With all that life has gathered on its way, 
Love's early token, give them for one hour, 
E'en as we bartered flowers in life's May^ 
So give them all for childhood's rosy bower ! 



THE PRESENT. 



The past has fled on pinions fleet away, 

And left the Present in its onward course 7 
Which pressing on the future, will not stay, 

But still glides onward with predestined force. 
And holds the shadow of the coming day, 

To guide us onward to its certain source ; 
While we pursue, the Present with us flies, 

The dim past lights our pathway with its sighs. 

I had a dream last night, a fevered dream, 

Of climbing steeps where shattered stair-ways led, 

And guns above sent out a fitful gleam 

Which made the pulse stand still, although there bled 

No warrior stern ; and then a placid stream 
Glided through gentle plains, and specters fled, 



366 INKLINGS. 

When rung the friendly shout, or in the form 
Of mist, floated and vanished on the storm. 

Night passed, that dream is now a dream no more, 

But gone forever with the shades of night ; 
Its impress only has been left in store ; 

The dream itself, borne onward in its flight, 
Has safely landed on that waveless shore, 

Where Darkness keeps its fledgelings from the light ; 
And shades of night will not return again, 

The midnight specters of that somber plain. 

Over the future, fate has thrown a veil, 

Through which, men often strain their eyes to see, 
And think, perchance, that they can view a sail 

Gliding with pleasure on a quiet sea ; 
Remove the veil, and they perhaps will hail 

A crew whose notes are destitute of glee ; 
So thin the veil, that they themselves deceive, 

The willing dupes of what they would believe. 

The yellow sea-shore is a rope of sand, 

Which binds the moaning ocean to its bed ; 
Brittle, yet strong, is the resistless band, 

From which subduing waves reluctant fled, 
When He, their Ruler, marked upon the land, 

And said, "thus far, here land and water wed;" 
And the hoarse ocean yielded to His nod, 

Whose will can scourge as with an iron rod. 



INKLINGS. 367 

Time, like that rope of sand, binds all things here. 

And we, while standing on the shore of time, 
Should not forget to grasp what may be near, 

"While looking forward to a happy clime, 
And use the Present while the sky is clear, 

To gather pearl or pebble for a rhyme ; 
Or. if some nobler theme to us belong; 

To twine the fadeless laurel for a song. 



A DOGGEREL. 



The title of this rhyme, to some may show 
This, to others that ; but I do intend 

To write on dogs ; and not to give a blow 
To all the yelping race — heaven forefend ! 

My verse shall with all canine virtues glow, 
And from all base assaults, their fame defend, 

That they may be abused, few will deny ; 

And zeal should kindle, when oppressed ones cry. 

Most dogs will bark, and some will likewise bite \ 

That seems to be their way to earn their bread \ 
And some are quarrelsome and love to fight, 



368 INKLINGS. 

While wiser ones have sometimes turned and fled. 
Which dog law might have branded as "not right f 

But where one must have run, or stayed and blec 1 
I would advise him sure to run away a 
Then he migh live to fight another day. 

It might be difficult to tell you all, 

The many kinds of dogs which may be found ; 

Such as the Watch Dog, which round stately hall, 
Makes the night echo with his bark profound ; 

And long-eared gentry which to sportsmen fall, 
Such as in common language, we call Hound ; 

Shepherd and Spaniel ; as we onward pass^ 

The common Cur must mingle with the mass. 

Dogs love their masters, likewise bread and meat ; 

Sometimes they seem inclined themselves to help 
Yet few are ever known their friends to cheat ; 

Some dogs will run into the road and yelp, 
As if they thought the thing were some great feat, 

And often they get nicknamed, " a mean whelp f' 
Men are so much like dogs, all love to bark, 
And all hate noise, but more when it is dark. 

There is a dog, which' from a pup I've known, 
Whose name might well have headed this my rhyme, 

But for a reason, which, when fairly shown, 

Might make, you'll think, the difference of a dime. 



INKLINGS. 369 

His name is Tiger. Has not fancy flown 

Quick with his name to Bengal's prowling clime ? 
Would you have headed this with such a name. 
To fright a child, and chill a goodly dame ? 

He is a good-sized dog, but what the breed 

I know not. can not tell, unless he be 
A mixture of all kinds to which the meed 

Of praise was ever due, for surely he 
Is a good dog ; and then how many feed 

On most delicious crumbs, which should be free 
To roam at large, and be the constant mark 
Of every school-boy's arrow in the dark ! 

This dog has once been mentioned by a friend, 

In public print, not by his proper name, 
But, t( a certain dog," such as one may send 

Here and there at will, was named without blame, 
As if it were not needful to defend 

One whose whole life was yet unknown to shame. 
More than a week from this, he would not bark 
At common curs, or run out in the dark ! 



Who ever saw a dog, in all his life, 

Which thought pigs ears were not common plunder ? 
Who ever saw a dog, when there was strife, 

Which would not try to make one " knock under ? 5? 



370 INKLINGS. 

Who never yet has seen a scolding wife 
Eaise her digits with peculiar wonder. 
To see a dog tread in some quiet spot. 
And leave his foot-prints on the floor, a blot ? 

What I am at, is this, dogs will be dogs 
Until their nature changes ; not till then, 

Can we expect them free from vice as logs 
Which move not, for their very virtues ken 

So far, they lead them rashly into bogs ; 
They look so far to see the foxes' den, 

They leap rashly into muddy places, 

And shake the slime before neighbors' faces. 

My dog said to me, when he was quite young, 
"Just whistle, and I'll come to you my lad ;" 

And often when I called him, has he hung 

To catties' tails, which must have made them sad 

To think of mischief ; and then he has flung 
Himself upon me, of one token glad, 

To show that he was right, and followed near. 

Anxious to save me from one boding fear. 

His tread is firm and stately, and his head 
Erect sees far and snuffs the tainted air ; 

His ears drink in the sound, when game has fled, 
His quick leap bounds along so free from care, 



INKLINGS. 371 

And his proud tail erect seems to have shed 

A light upon his fame ; how very fair 
And pleasant, to see the funny grinner 
Leering just like any other sinner ! 

One doggerel I have written, that is sure ; 

Convince me of the sin, and you shall hear 
Confessions, which I hope, might you allure 

From all its kindred ; and you need not fear 
To undertake it 5 for I do assure 

All, friends, dogs, and foes, list and ye will hear ! 
I do intend to leave all doggerel rhyme, 
For those whose genius soars to such a clime. 



THE MAIDEN'S PKAYER, 



Father of Love, incline thine ear, 
And listen to a maiden's prayer ! 

Bless Father, Brothers, Sister dear ; 
Let all, thy loving kindness share ! 

May gentle rest refresh us all, 
And hope still cheer us on our way ! 



372 INKLINGS. 

From sin and sorrow, and their thrall. 
Be Thou our guard, from day to day ! 



FOR A LADY'S ALBUM. 



Incense for Hope's young shrine, 
"When Fancy threw a wreath 

Around that brow of thine ; — 
All that I can bequeath ! 



FOR A LADY'S ALBUM. 



Here you may often turn to see 
A friendly record of the past, 

And gentle wish which here may be, 
May linger with you to the last. 



INKLINGS. 373 

One good wish more, these lines will make, 

That when your sky is overcast, 
Your trust in Him may never shake. 

Who ruleth well the wintry blase. 



VALENTINE. 



In summer time one pleasant day, 

When busy bees were on the wing, 
When roses with sunbeams did play. 

And round their sweetest fragrance fling, — 
Cupid was sleeping in the shade, 

While gentle zephyrs fanned his face, 
And then, by chance came through the glade, 

A maiden, fair as lines can trace, 
Who thought, in sportive mood, to try 

The bow which on a rose-bush hung, 
And quickly let an arrow fly, 

Which to my bosom since has clung. 
How came I there ? — There was a streanij 

On whose sweet banks I oft reclined, 
Till day sent back its farewell beam, 

Where forest birds never repined. 
17 



S74 INKLINGS. 

There I, unseeru had seen the boy 

Discharge an arrow here and there, 
Careless of time, as if a toy. 

Or bird above him in the air. 
It ivas a wound made by mistake ! — 

Suppose it was, should then the maid, 
The bleeding, hapless youth forsake. 

And let him die in forest glade ! 
Come then, my darling, heal the wound 

"Which you have made with Cupid's bow ; 
Sighs should not mingle with the sound 

Of birds, and bees, and stream below. 



SONG OF THE RILL. 



I have come from my highland home, 
Freely oyer the land to roam, 

And sing a song to cheer the heart. 
"When the sun first gilds the mountains, 
I leap from the sparkling fountains, 

Pure pleasure and peace to impart. 

I come from the gentle hill -side, 
Where quiet time does onward glide, 



INKLINGS. 375 

And dance with the music I bring. 
I linger by the cottage door, 
And brighten Trell the cottage floor. 

And cheer with the song which I sing. 

The rainbow gilds my sparkling brow, 
To me men bring an ardent vow, 

To cherish me with zealous care ; 
And freely birds flit through the spray, 
And perch upon a bow to say 

The vesper hymn, which oft I share. 

Man's heated brow I often lave, 

His fevered heart does frequent crave 

The cooling draught which I supply. 
I cool his brow, I soothe his heart, 
And sing a song all free from art, 

To cheer him as I onward fly. 



MOTTO FOE A LITERARY PAPER. 



"When cold winds pipe their hoarser notes, 
And in the air the snow-flake floats, 



376 INKLINGS. 

When birds have flown where skies are warm. 
And beasts are sheltered from the storm, — 
We come to cheer the social hearth, 
And flavor give to youthful mirth. 
Perhaps sage counsel you may find, 
If, to be grave, you are inclined. 
Our object is, care to beguile ; 
For pay, we only ask a smile. 



ON THE DEATH OF A CRICKET. 



Two years have passed, yet I remember well, 
The sorrow which my bosom then did swell, 
When on the peaceful hearth a cricket sung, 
As night around her sable shadows hung. 
There was a sadness in the hour, which gave 
A sadder hue to shadows from the grave 
Of buried hopes, and o'er the past did glide 
Dim specters dressed with melancholy pride, 
And marched with stately tread around the room, 
To cricket's music in the gathering gloom. 
All then was still, and cattle in their dreams, 
Roamed over clover fields by gentle streams ; 
The bird was dreaming, near some bush or fern, 
Of bugs and worms as morning did return ; 



INKLINGS. 377 

Cats dreamed of mice, and dogs would give a growl, 
"When prey, they fancied, sent them back a howl j 
The spider wove a web to catch a fly, 
"With transport saw its victim slowly die. 
The stars with gentle luster clothed, that night, 
The hemlock trees and stumps within the sight ; 
The owl sometimes would give a dismal sound 
.And make night echo with its voice profound, 
And goblins lingered in the beech-trees' shade, 
Or hid in corners of the nearest glade ; 
Still on the hearth the cricket sung his song, 
And silence seemed the last note to prolong, 
Until his song was woven with the spell 
Which fancy threw around that night so well. 
Next morning, he was found upon the hearth, 
As dead as any other clay of earth. 
Some sudden shock deprived him of his breath, 
Left him to moulder in the arms of death ; 
But surely crickets will his fate deplore, 
For that one song which he will sing no more ; 
And I, while wiser men perhaps may laugh, 
Will try to write the cricket's epitaph. 

EPITAPH. 

Here lies a poor cricket all unknown to fame, 
Whose life was a song without passion or blame ; 
Who nibbled a crumb in a crack of the hearth, 
And now has gone back to his old mother earth. 



378 INKLINGS. 

SWITZERLAND. 



Land of the mountain, dell and vale, 
Dear to the freeman's heart ! 

Thy praise borne on the western gale, 
New pleasure will impart. 

Long as the Alps shall rear their head, 

Where icy glaciers hail 
The hunter, where the chamois fled, 

Above the vine-clad vale ; 

So long will freemen call to mind 
The mountain, hill and dell, 

Where lived the noble, brave and kind, 
The land of William Tell. 

Long as the avalanche in wrath, 
From mountain to the plain 

Shall leap, destruction in its path, 
Resistance all in vain ; 

So long will men recall the Swiss, 
When tyrants raise the rod ; 

And they will tremble for their bliss, 
As when the glaciers nod. 



INKLINGS. 379 

Land of brave hearts, and homes made dear 

By all the ties of earth ; 
Still be thy children free from fear, 

And peace around their hearth ! 



ALAS ! MY BROTHER ! 



Hushed in the dreamless slumber of the grave, 
Is one loved voice, we shall not hear again. 

Those cheerful tones, from care would often save 
The mind oppressed with sorrow and with pain. 
Alas, my Brother ! 



One chair is vacant round the social hearth, 
And friends will look in vain to see him there, 

"Who once did welcome ; not again on earth, 
"Will friendless stranger tell to him his care. 
Alas, my Brother ! 



380 INKLINGS. 

Morn's early beams will not return again, 
To cheer the widow in her lonely way, 

One who no more can feel another's pain, 
Or greet with pleasure each returning day. 
Alas, my Brother ! 



The father's treasure now will climb the knee 
JSTo more, to gain the fondly cherished kiss, 

And then in rapture glide away to be 

In slumber lost, with sweetest dreams of bliss. 
Alas, my Brother ! 



The strong man fainted in the arms of Death, 
Whose chill embrace has left him but a clod, 

And food for worms ; frail as the fleeting breath, 
Is life. man, prepare to meet thy God ! 
Alas, my Brother ! 



INKLINGS. 381 



TO HOMER, THE POET. 



Old Homer sung about the siege of Troy, 

And Grecian heroes marshaled on the field. 
With skill which must have been a source of joy 

To warrior with his plume, and spear, and shield. 
The gods, when on the plains the victors reeled, 

So hard the contest, their assistance brought, 
And as fate favored, made the battle yield 

To those who humbly had protection sought ; 
And Troy yet lives, although its walls have come to naught. 

Young Homer, too, has sung his songs of late, 

Not in the trumpet tones of him of old, 
But lute-like notes, which, in the Empire State, 

Are loved far more, yes, by a thousand fold ; 
For here, while gently time has onward rolled, 

Her sons have learned to love the peaceful hills 
And quiet vales, where happiness untold 

Dwells by the music of the silver rills ; 
And rural life has bliss which all the bosom fills. 

Still be thy motto " onward," farmer Boy ! 

Plow deep thy furrows in the field of song, 
Sow well the seed of truth, and love, and joy, 

Smite the oppressor who would do a wrong! 

17* 



382 INKLINGS. 

Be bold, fear not, these hills will yet prolong 
Those rural notes, when victors' dire alarms 

Have ceased to please ! Then in the right be strong, 
And cheer the working men with all the charms 
Which Nature loves to throw around their well tilled farms. 



The changing seasons have been sung by thee, 

As we might see them pass before the eye ; 
The meadow and the waving grain will be 

Before us, when the gentle zephyrs sigh, 
Sigh from a harp-string which is ever nigh 

To those who listen ; and those merry bells 
Can never be forgotten, if we try, 

So sweet the rapture in the bosom swells ; 
To think of former days 3 how much their music tells ! 



On every hill Parnassian laurels grow, 

The Muses' fountain glides from every spring, 
And he alone, who has the power to know 

And feel this truth, can to his bosom bring 
Its cheering comfort ; then far from thee fling 

Care's weary burden, let the future flow 
In thought, fair as the dulcet streams which cling 

To visions of the night, which sometimes glow 
With rainbow hues, and sweetest melody bestow. 



INKLINGS. 383 

Read how the minstrels formerly have sung. 

And earned a welcome in some lordly hall ; 
How knights and ladies on their accents hung, 

As passion threw its robe around them all ; 
And how the past came thronging at the call, 

That wizard call, until the present time 
Was by the past obscured, and in sweet thrall, 

The passions, bound by magic of a rhyme, 
Seemed free to rove in some far-off, Elysian clime. 

Resume the Harp, young Bard ! or it may lose 

Its tone and tension, and the mighty lay 
Will not return, when you may fondly choose. 

Twilight succeeds the fairest summer day, 
And fancy's gilding will not always stay, 

To court the passions and the Muses' theme. 
The sunset splendors change to sober gray ; 

How fair, yet fleeting, is the passing gleam 
They throw upon the tranquil bosom of a stream ! 

You are a neighbor, and a neighbor's son, 

And younger brother you have been to me, 
When to the school we wandered, and there won 

Some children trophies. Can tongue tell how free 
From care those days, when like the busy bee, 

From childhood's flower we sipped the honey-dew, 
And sober faces caught the general glee 

Which our young sports around the circle threw, 
And gay as birds of air, time on its pinions flew ? 



384 INKLINGS. 

Those days have passed, and with them passed away. 

Like sunbeams shining in the morning dew. 
Those aspirations which in childhood stray 

To worlds unknown, when all the nerves are new. 
Time in its night, has left us but a few 

Of those young comrades. Some have journied east, 
Some west, and birds of evil omen flew, 

To bring sad tidings, sad to us, at least ; 
That some had gone to make vile worms a loathsome feast. 

We will not mourn the seeming hapless fate 

Which doomed them early to an unknown grave ; 
But hope that death has proved to them a gate^ 

Through which they have escaped from sorrow's wave, 
Which might o'erwhelm. Who would not wish to save 

The soul from sorrow, when dark hours are near, 
And all the senses in cold Lethe lave, 

If it would shield us from the hour of fear, 
When friends seem to forsake, and all around is drear? 

But to sad thoughts, adieu ! Friend Homer, sing 

Those early days which you must love so well ! 
And as the painters to the canvas bring 

All that is lovely, nothing make to tell 
A rude, unsightly landscape ; you should dwell 

On scenes you loved, and leave regrets behind ; 
Those little accidents which once befell, 

Should mar no picture with a thought unkind ; 
And to the follies of a friend, be always blind. 



INKLINGS. 385 

If aught in this should seem unto you bold, 

Please pardon grant, and freedom to a friend ! 
If aught in this should seem unto you cold. 

Good wishes with it you should surely blend ; 
The cherished hope that fortune yet may send 

Its favors choice, to cheer you in the way 
Where truth and duty lead ! Let nothing rend 

From you these priceless gems, or dim the ray 
"Which they impart ; and now, once more, a long, good day ! 



THE DOCTOR'S FIRST PATIENT, AND THE 
GHOST. 



There is a place which we will call 
Noville,, because the people all, 
Are neither short, nor very tall ; 

And only few 
Live there, in cottage or in hall, 

Which man may view, 



386 INKLINGS. 

The doctor, deacon, and the priest, 
With more than half a score, at least, 
Compose the number which can feast 

Or entertain 
The stranger and his weary beast, 

While they remain. 

Once with the doctor, lived a man, 
Who, in his heart, had thought to ban 
All other trades, and then to scan 

The healing art ; 
And oft he studied o'er some plan, 

To play his part. 

One day, a man came in great pain, 

To see the doctor and explain, 

How one old tooth had been the bane 

Of all his bliss ; 
And get him quickly to distrain, 

For rent of this. 



But courage cooled, as he drew near 

The office, and when he did hear 

The student say, there was some fear, 

The doctor might 
Remain away till night was here, 

He felt delight. 



HSKLINGS. 387 

But his delight soon had an end. 

That single tooth from him did rend 

All thoughts of bliss ; and he did blend 

All thoughts of woe, 
Which man to brother man can send, 

"With this one foe. 



And then in agony he cried, 

u Tell me, young man, have you not tried 

To pull a tooth?" which was denied j 

Then rode away 
The man who thought all did deride 

His hapless day. 

Ere long the student rode away, 
One pleasant brown October day, 
And coming where red-skins delay 

Among the whites, 
A drunken squaw found in the way, 

With all her rights. 



" Madam," he says, " what ails you now ? 
You have a sober look, I vow !" 
She put her hand up to her brow, 

Then to her face, 
To let him know with stately bow, 

That was the place. 



388 INKLINGS. 

" I see, I see, the toothache sure, 
And in my pocket is the cure 
For all the ills which you endure 5 

And all the pain, 
It quickly will from you allure, 

And not in vain." 

Then in his hand the iron shook, 
And on his knee her head he took, 
And with a scientific look, 

He turned away ; 
Which sent the tooth near to the brook 

Which run that way. 

She groaned, and raised unto the chin, 
Her hand, and he exclaimed, " what sin, 
To pull the wrong one I" but no din 

Followed his care ; 
And then he said, " I yet may win 

The right one there." 

Tooth after tooth came with a groan, 
In that same, melancholy tone, 
Until within her head, a bone, 

Except the jaw, 
Had not been left for her to moan, 

And that was raw. 



INKLINGS. 389 

" The right one now, must sure be out, 
"Without the shadow of a doubt ; 
And, Madam, you may have the gout, 

I greatly fear, 
Unless you cease to drink and flout,— 

But now, good cheer !" 

He onward rode, the moon shone bright^ 

And threw a gentle silver light, 

Hound field and wood, on left and right ? 

As homeward bound, 
The zephyrs whispered a good night, 

To all around. 

When near his home, he paused to see. 
If aught in motion there might be, 
And soon beheld a chance for glee 

To roguish men ; 
And gliding quick behind a tree ? 

He waited then. 

An old man there had rung the bell 
At nine o'clock, which all might tell 
The time of sleep, until he fell 

And hurt him sore ; 
His boy had clone, since that befell. 

As he before. 



390 INKLINGS. 

But, yesterday, a wicked knave 

"Was safely placed in church-yard grave, 

And youngster thought he might be brave, 

Come back again, 
And then unto his father gave 

His thoughts of pain. 

It was agreed, father should ride 
Upon son's back, near church abide, 
Until the son within should glide, 

And pull the rope ; 
And then return with hasty stride, 

And homeward " slope." 

That night, two rogues were stealing sheep ; 
One staid around the church to peep, 
Cracked nuts upon the steps, to keep 

Himself awake; 
And then he thought of plan most deep, 

Some fun to make. 



So putting on the parson's gown, 

And with it, a terrific frown, 

Which must have made him look the clown, 

By light of day ; 
From priestly altar, he came down, 

To make essay. 



INKLINGS. 391 



And coming to the open air, 

He seemed his ghostship to a hair. 

To minds which once have had a care 

To see him out ; 
And with his robe flowing so fair, 

He whirled about ; 

And shouting to his neighbor thief, 
As if the man were surely deaf, 
Cried, " is he fat ?" with solemn grief. 

The cripple run, 
Beyond the son's utmost belief, 

Like shot from gun. 

The student slowly rode along, 

And thus his musing did prolong ; 

K Those rascals well deserve the thong ; 

How vile they act ! 
This world is scarcely worth a song. 

That is a f act I" 



392 INKLINGS. 



KANDOM THOUGHTS. 



Now Judah's king and Ahab, on the plain 

Unfurled their banner to the Syrian foe, 
After one prophet had foretold in vain. 

Like sheep without a shepherd, even so 
Should they flee on the mountains, and again 

Eeturn without a master, from the blow 
Which Syria on the rebel head should deal. 

When war's dread note should fire each chieftain's zeal. 

As on the field in battle's proud array, 

Horseman and chariot with the bristling spear, 
In serried rank, their untold power display, 

The prophet's warning voice rings on his ear, 
And royal robes are laid aside that day, 

When Ahab's heart low whispers of its fear, 
Then mounts his car, and with a dauntless hand, 

Points his dread war-spear at a Syrian band. 

The trumpet sounds, and onward to the fight, 
The wheeling squadrons with brave hearts advance, 

Pursue, retreat, and even in their flight, 
One who before had lost perhaps a lance. 

Drew at a venture then his bow, with might 
He knew not, and the arrow flew to dance 



INKLINGS. 393 

In Ahab's life-blood ; turn now, charioteer. 
For he is wounded, take him to the rear. 

That was a random shot, and yet swift flew 

The arrow to fulfill what had been told, 
And lie, who long had borne with Ahab, knew 

Full well the nature of the warrior bold, 
And as he guides the wind, directed true, 

The arm and arrow of that warrior old ; 
And the king fainted on the field and died, 

At set of sun, with all his martial pride. 

Words, flowing from the lips of brother man 

In accents smooth as song of bird in spring, 
May be like poisoned arrows, for they can 

Pierce the soul, and their reptile venom fling 
A death-hue o'er some hope or goodly plan, 

Which would make death a bliss, if it could bring 
A torpor to the sense which only knows, 

That it more surely may its pains disclose. 

Words are the dress of thought, and it is thought 
Which gives to them their own intrinsic worth ; 
Thought is the jewel which can not be bought 

With trifling sound, though empty, wanton mirth- 
May seek to barter it for less than naught— 
The only offspring of a mortal birth, 



394 INKLINGS. 

Which feels not the corroding touch of time. 
But still lives on, in prose or lofty rhyme. 

Man's hopes, desires, concealed within the heart, 

Are fountains from which flow, corrupt or pure, 
The thoughts and plans which pleasure may impart ; 

And ardent zeal the reason may allure 
To sell its products in the gilded mart 

Where Fancy dwells, for trinkets which endure 
Until a rainy day, then turn to brass, 

For which they afterwards can only pass. 

Hopes are, alas, too much like pleasant dreams 

Of airy. castles in the realms of sleep, 
When on the vision golden sunrise beams 

And bathes the soul in the enchantment deep 
Which it unfolds, while every object gleams 

With joy. But the waking, when must weep 
The wretch who finds, that on a desert shore 

His hut is built, where loud the tempests roar ! 

And why those dreams and wand'rings of the mind, 
That bursting of the fetters of the soul, 

When its clay prison is left far behind, 
If not to point us forward to the goal, 

Its destined home, where its Creator kind 
Will let it bask while endless ages roll, 



INKLINGS. 395 

In pleasures free from earthly dross and sin, 
The strange pollution of its earthly kin 1 

Who has not tasted of the cup of grief, 

And felt that thorns grew in the path of life, 
"When even this frail life, which is so brief. 

Seemed long enough, with all its woe and strife ; 
When hoodwinked Justice, like a statue deaf, 

Seemed to become the calculating wife 
Of cold Neglect, and sorrow's silent tear 

Was the sole comfort which the heart could cheer 1 



But sorrow has its lesson, and the grave, 

The end of sighs and tears, of hopes betrayed, 
In kindness, from a bitter pang may save 

The soul when sinking, as some good delayed, 
To coward, hateful breast, may change the brave ; 

And the soul's purity, if once assayed, 
Might prove a bitter source of endless pain, 

To him who found its real worth so vain. 

The first, low sound borne on the tattling air 
From infant lips, is sorrow's humble wail. 

The last, which lingers round the brow of care, 
As time and sickness feeble age assail, 

A groan, and man seems not designed to dare, 
But to endure, seems not designed to rail ? 



396 INKLINGS. 

But to submitj as best he may or can. 
Unto the sorrow which he can not ban. 

Pain has a meaning which all know full well. 

Yet life is not all pain, sometimes we feel, 
Like hermit in some solitary dell, 

A ray of cheering sunshine, and we steal 
A moment's joy, from grief which none may tell, 

And know, that with its woe, life has its weal, 
The bright ray flashing on a cloud of gloom, 

Bright, though it may disclose a fearful doom. 

Friendship may bless a humble, weary state, 

As flowers add their sweetness to the field, 
So it may linger round the gloom of fate, 

And soothe the pains, from which it can not shield ; 
Or like a fortress strong, protect the great 

From storms which might destroy ; friendship may yield 
A sovereign balm for every bitter woe, 

From which it can not shield us, here below. 

But to the Harp, farewell ! A weary note, 

"Without complaint, has lingered round its string ; 
Still on the breeze a broken tone may float, 

"Which to a shattered string may seem to cling, 
Like drowning men around a shivered boat, 

Who to the breeze a sad farewell may fling. 
My broken Harp, farewell ! To me were sweet, 

The shattered tones which other ears must greet. 



INKLINGS. 397 

THE ORPHAN'S SOLILOQUY. 



"Where the brook gently murmurs of the past, 

As it flows onward to its destined home, 
The hoarse, old ocean, which receives at last, 

The little wand'rers from the hill that roam—* 
Where the sweet maple shade invites to thought, 

Free from the sultry sun's oppressive heat, 
The green grass for my couch, the heart untaught. 
Loves to return, the absent ones to greet ; 
For I am sad, 

Loved ones return 
To make me glad, 
No more ! 

The birds of air on their fleet pinions borne, 

Send each to other their sweet songs of joy ; 
How could the self-taught songster learn to mourn, 

And its own pleasure quickly to destroy, 
"While the air trembles with the note it bears, 

So sweet the sound, and flagrant flowers fling 
Their incense to fair warblers ! Why should cares 
Destroy the pleasure which an hour may bring ? 
But I am sad, 

Loved ones return 
To make me glad, 
No more! 



398 INKLINGS. 

There was a time when summer shades were dear, 

When the fair daisy in the scented field, 
And the gay warbler with its song of cheer, 

A childish rapture to the heart could yield ; 
But shadows now brood over that fair time, 

Its flowers are faded and its loved ones dead, 
And its remembrance is a sunny clime, 
From which my early footsteps long have fled. 
Now I am sad, 

Loved ones return 
To make me glad, 
No more ! 

My Mother, on whose bosom I did rest, 

And learn in lisping accents to declare 
The words which from those lovely lips were blest, 

Seemed like my Mother, always good and fair, 
And Father too, from whose reproving nod, 

"With awe I shrunk, yet oft obtained his praise, 
Have left me for that land, they say, where God 

Dwells with delight and endless length of days ; 

But I am sad, 

Loved ones return 
To make me glad, 
No more ! 

There was a Sister, in whose cheerful face 
I once could gaze as in a placid lake, 

All gentle feelings written there could trace, 
The fair reflection of my own would make ; 



INKLINGS. 399 



She too has fled, they say, on seraph wings, 
Where flowers fair forever are in bloom ; 
But thought of her to me a sadness brings, 
And throws around my sky a pensive gloom, 
I am sad, 

Loved ones return 
To make me glad, 
No more ! 



The household altar has been' broken down, 

And Kuin] broods around the wreck there made, 
And Desolation with forbidding frown, 

Has changed the place into a sickly glade, 
Where birds no more will chant the morning song, 

And floral sweets no more perfume the air. 
The winter ^of jny discontent is long, 

Though flowers bloom in other places fair ; 
And I am sad, 

Loved ones return 
To make me glad, 
No more I 



Could I but give the orphan's heart a tongue, 
And tell how much is buried in the grave, 

When all that clusters round the soul, is wrung 
By Death's rude hand away — how little, save 



400 INKLINGS. 

The breath of life, is left, when friends so dear, 

Hushed in the slumber of the last, long sleep, 
Awake no more to hope or goading fear, 

Then men would know what makes an orphan weep I 
I am sad, 

Loved ones return 
To make me glad, 
No more ! 



They say, if I am only good and kind, 

And do my duty like a man, while here, 
And to my follies am not always blind, 

But day by day amend with sober fear, 
I yet may see those loved ones, in a land 
Fair as the fairest, brightest summer day. 
The thought shall cheer me on to meet the band, 
Now gone before, and this shall be my stay ; 
But I am sad, 

Loved ones return 
To make me glad, 
No more ! 



INKLINGS. 401 

LINES WRITTEN AT THE GRAVE OF MY SISTER, 



Sleep, Sister, sleep ! the gentle dew, 
Although unseen, is falling now: 

And shades of night return a few 

Who cling like phantoms round my brow. 
Sleep, Sister, sleep ! 



Sleep, Sister, sleep ! the wild bird now 
Has sung its song, and fled to rest 

Beneath the shelter of a bough ; 

To-morrow's light will make it blest 
Sleep, Sister, sleep ! 

Sleep, Sister, sleep ! all free from pain 
Which can not pierce the spirit now ; 

Our loss is your eternal gain, 

Death-damps no more can chill the brow, 
Sleep, Sister, sleep ! 

Sleep, Sister, sleep ! while here I bow 
Above the form which has been fair ; 

Reposing in the cold grave now, 
Is free from pain and free from care, 
Sleep, Sister, sleep ! 



402 INKLINGS. 

Sleep, Sister, sleep ! the night is long. 
But day will come to light the brow, 

Disperse the sable, misty throng 
Which hovers on the night-air now. 
Sleep, Sister, sleep ! 



Sleep, Sister, sleep ! while gently now 
I whisper a farewell to thee, 

And spirits upward bear the vow 
To meet thee where the blest may be. 
Sleep, Sister, sleep ! 



C 54 




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